


Better Dig Two

by Kittenshift17



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Family Drama, Infidelity, Romance, love child
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2019-06-27 14:03:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 40,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15686880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittenshift17/pseuds/Kittenshift17
Summary: Hermione never expected she'd fall pregnant with a lovechild fathered by a mystery man to get back at Ron for cheating. Her drunken revenge leads to the birth of her son. 5 years later she is confronted by Draco Malfoy with a photo she thinks is of her son. Things get complicated when he tells her it's not.





	1. A Terrible Love

Hermione Granger stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of the man she knew to be Ron Weasley where he stood in a secluded alcove with a woman, not herself, plastered against him most inappropriately. The masquerade theme of the evening ball did nothing to hide the identity of her long-term boyfriend, though it effectively hid that of his current consort. Ron's splash of vivid red-hair was recognisable anywhere and Hermione felt the sting of betrayal sear through her veins with more intensity than dragon-fire.

Utterly horrified by the scene, Hermione fled before she could be spotted by the snogging couple, refusing to even consider the idea of letting Ron's betrayal ruin the entire evening for the rest of her graduating classmates. She didn't want the shame of another night spent dealing with his moods and his petty arguments should she confront him about this incident now. Tears trickled from her eyes, soaking her cheeks and causing her own masquerade mask to shift uncomfortably on her wet face.

Unable to face her classmates or the idea of running into Harry or Ginny and needing to explain the situation to either of them, knowing they would spot her tears and guess the reason for them, Hermione retreated to the one place she knew she wouldn't be found by any of her friends.

The Room of Requirement welcomed her with a collection of tissue boxes and a comfortable chair by a fireplace, and Hermione found herself emitting a bitter chuckle in spite of her fury and her heartache. She didn't know why she was surprised. It wasn't as though this was the first time Ron had been unfaithful to her. She knew that the distance between them while she'd completed the final year of her studies and he'd gone into Auror training with Harry had been a strain on their relationship.

She knew he'd dabbled with other women.

And yet here she was, furious and sobbing over the notion of him doing so again. Hermione clenched her fists, tossing her used tissues into the crackling fireplace as she got to her feet and began pacing furiously. She didn't know if she was more furious with Ron for what he was doing, or with herself for constantly putting up with his behaviour. It was one thing after all, to forgive him for a mistake he'd made one night with far too much alcohol and fresh sorrow coursing through him to have even intended to hurt her this way. It was entirely another to continue putting up with the same mistake occurring again and again.

The most insulting factor of the entire thing was that Hermione had been faithful to the bastard for all the time she'd dated him. Even during their year of separation when comfort in the arms of another willing body had been offered, Hermione had been faithful. She'd never strayed from him. She'd loved him more than anything else in the entire world and she'd forgiven him each of his misdemeanours.

She'd even blamed herself. After all, if she hadn't been away at Hogwarts when he needed her then he wouldn't have had to find solace in the arms of another woman. But that excuse was no longer going to cut it. He'd come to the ball with her, on her invitation. It was her sodding graduation and supposed to be a happy night of celebration shared with friends and peers as she moved onto the next step in her life, celebrating all that she had achieved thus far.

Ron didn't have the excuse of not having Hermione on hand to assist him with his desires. She'd been right there next to him all evening until she'd accompanied Ginny to the bathroom, only to return later and find him plastered against some brainless bimbo who ought to have known better. The entire wizarding world knew that she and Ron were an item and had been since the end of the war. They were constantly in the papers and in  _Witch Weekly's_  gossips columns for their misdemeanours, their latest fashion choices, their romantic life.

Being part of the dubbed 'Golden Trio' that had been such huge contributors to bringing down Voldemort and the Death Eaters had earned Hermione and Ron a place inside the book of fame right alongside Harry. These days their exploits were constantly published in the tabloids. Harry loathed it, of course, but Hermione knew that Ron was rather pleased to have finally distinguished himself from his brothers and made a name for himself. He lapped up the attention like a hungry puppy. Hermione herself rather disliked constantly being written about. She received fan mail and hate mail for many of the things she did or didn't r didn't do.

Merlin, even when she didn't do things, the journalists just made wild things up, spicing up her life in an entirely fictional, yet extremely annoying way. And unfortunately Rita Skeeter was no longer the only woman making up lies about her. She had little choice but to put up with it, actually. After all, she couldn't capture them all for the annoying little gnats they were and threaten to drown them all in their jam jar prisons.

When the bottle of fire-whiskey appeared on the table beside the couch where she'd been sitting, Hermione reached for it automatically. She ignored the glass that materialised beside it in favour of swigging the liquid straight from the bottle. She coughed only a little at the burn in her throat as she took long gulps, attempting to numb her pain and her fury. Gods, she needed more to drink. She needed to be numb.

This heartache was too much and it made her feel positively sick to her stomach. She knew she wasn't the most elegant or the most beautiful witch in the wizarding world, but was it really so hard for Ron to keep in in his pants? Was there something wrong with her that meant he wanted others? She'd thought after he'd walked out on them during the Horcrux hunt – after he'd abandoned them – that he'd learned his lesson. That his mettle had been tested and he'd come back stronger for it. Now it seemed like it was being tested again, and this time it was Hermione who was breaking apart.

Why did it always seem to her that she paid the price of heartache for all of Ron's stupid choices? Why did she have to suffer for his stupidity? It wasn't as though she didn't put out for him. It wasn't as though he were straying because she was a virgin and too frigid to give him what he wanted to needed. She admittedly had been away at school most of the year, but she'd still shagged him when she saw him. Yet here he was, with her right in the very same castle as him and more than willing to sleep with him, yet he was more interested in rutting whichever little trollop had batted her eyes at the famous Ron Weasley and flirted enough to flatter his enormous ego.

Even though his long-term girlfriend was in the same bloody castle!

She'd had enough, confound it all!

She'd had it with Ron cheating on her and being such a faithless bastard while she remained so loyal to him. She loved him too much to leave him, but Ronald Weasley was going to get a taste of his own medicine.

"Fancy finding this place occupied on a night like this," a low, masculine voice spoke from the shadows and Hermione marvelled at the efficiency of the Room of Requirement. She had only just been thinking that she would need to find a man to commit her infidelity with, and lo and behold, one had appeared. She blamed the fire-whiskey entirely for not thinking beyond being provided what she required. She'd had more than half the bottle by now.

"And what might you be doing here?" she asked, her voice husky from the amount of whiskey she'd consumed and the titillating feeling of even considering cheating on Ron and giving him a taste of his own bitter medicine.

"Well I was intending to escape the gyrating masses, if you must know, and planning to bid this place farewell," the man spoke from the shadows again, still not revealing himself just yet.

"Would you care for a drink to go with that?" Hermione heard herself ask, her eyes fixed on the form silhouetted against the gloom of the room.

The mystery man's identity was well hidden by his mask. The lower half was white and concealed most of his face, the upper half bore some rather tasteful horns and a mess of fake black hair, effectively hiding his own hair and notable features rather splendidly. She could honestly say there wasn't a single thing about him that even hinted at his identity and he certainly wasn't someone she recognised. Not with the mask on his face. Hermione knew that her own mask hid her identity rather well too. She'd chosen an elaborate mask of silver, one half designed in the shape of a butterflies wings and engraved with swirls and patterns.

She had tamed her hair with a hot iron, flattening the unruly curls into long sleek strands before charming it all into an elaborate up-do. All evening folks had been guessing at her identity, unable to tell it was even her. She'd been very much enjoying the anonymity of it all as well, for once not being constantly hounded by reporters with their cameras or questions from vicious gossips looking for a scoop to sell to the papers.

"That might be rather pleasant, I suppose," the man murmured in a way that seemed almost sultry to Hermione and as he stepped closer, moving out of the shadows and allowing himself to be illuminated by the glow of the firelight, Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat. She couldn't tell simply by looking at him who he might be, and her mind was too fuzzy from the drink to properly care about who he was.

Instead she was focused on his slim yet wiry build and the way a wicked smirk arranged itself upon his lips beneath his mask. His eyes glowed like molten silver as the firelight danced in them and Hermione found herself returning the heated look he gave with one of her own. Whoever he was, he was fit and he was handsome.

"You're a student here then, graduating and about to step out into the world?" Hermione asked him as she reached for a glass and poured him a liberal drink.

"What gave me away?" he asked, his voice causing Hermione to quiver. It practically dripped lust and seduction and Hermione wondered if there was something more to the whiskey or perhaps the room than met the eye, causing both of them to be so startlingly attracted to one another.

She'd certainly never felt so instantly attracted to any of her classmates. Not that she could recall, anyway. And if he were a graduating student then there could be no doubt that she knew him. She'd probably spent a number of days or weeks talking to him, interacting with him and otherwise sharing the castle with him, yet as she eyed him hungrily, she couldn't put her finger on who he might possibly be.

"You mentioned the urge to bid farewell to this place," Hermione informed him, deciding she ought to try and project a little more class than continuing to swig from the bottle and choosing to use a glass like he did.

"I did indeed," the unknown man murmured, looking intrigued by her attention to detail, "And you? Are you among the graduating class or a guest who simply happens to know of this room's existence?"

"I'm also graduating," Hermione replied with a coy smile, enjoying the anonymity of not knowing who he was and being unknown to him herself. It was a refreshing change in the aftermath of the War. She'd never enjoyed the spotlight the way Ron had and she rather liked the feeling of not being known as the bushy-haired know-it-all who had been a member of the famous Golden Trio. It also meant this was less likely to get back to the papers because her mystery man wouldn't know who she was to share the juicy details of their impending encounter.

"You were upset when you entered the room?" he queried quietly, sipping his whiskey with an air of someone who was used to the flavour and an elegance that belied a practiced ease. Whoever he was, he clearly was used to spending his evening drinking fine whiskey. Hermione kind of liked that.

"I was," Hermione agreed, her eyes narrowing at the reminder of Ron's betrayal. She didn't want to think about that now. She wanted to think about how gleeful and glorious it would be to betray Ron as he'd betrayed her. She also wanted to think about what this handsome and wiry wizard had going on underneath those fine robes he was currently clad in.

"I don't suppose you'd care to share the details?" he asked and Hermione found herself grinning a little.

"I'd prefer to forget them, actually. I'm sure that you could assist me in that venture?" she told him, her eyes travelling over his black-clad form indicatively.

That wicked smirk returned to his lips and Hermione found herself staring at them hungrily. She'd never felt so attracted to anyone in her life as she did in that moment to this mystery man.

"I could indeed. I could make you forget your own name, if you'd like. And what a send-off from this place that might make," he purred to her, causing Hermione's body to hum with desire. Before she could think any further, or even consider the reasons that this might be a bad idea or that she didn't even know the name of the man advancing on her, he stepped close. His free hand came up to rest lightly on the exposed nape of her neck and Hermione found herself tilting her head back to hold his intense gaze. When his eyes asked permission for him to come even closer, Hermione felt a heated smile spread across her face and she went up on her toes until her lips met his descending pair.

The touch was like an explosion through her system and one kiss was all it took for Hermione to be completely lost to the rush of emotions that coursed through her, overcoming her sense and her shyness and even her dignity. The fire-whiskey in her blood boiled through her, making her even hotter and his touch was like an electric shock to every sense she owned. Sweet merlin, but the man could  _kiss_!

Giving herself over to the sensation of his mouth on hers and his hands on her body, Hermione simply allowed herself to feel. She closed off her mind, closed off her emotions and her frustration with Ron. Closed off everything that usually weighed on her shoulders and chose to just feel. To feel the smooth, sexy caress of his tongue against her own. To enjoy the way he hooked one long, cool finger into the cleavage of her dress until the front ties began to unwind. To revel in the feel of indulging in every forbidden fantasy she'd never allowed herself to experience or even dwell on.

Instead Hermione chose to give in completely.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

When it was over, Hermione found herself lying beside her mystery partner on a conveniently soft rug before the still crackling fire. Both of them still wore their masks, never once revealing their identity to one another and Hermione found the mystery to be seductive and titillating. It felt good to know that all the depraved things the two of them had just done to one another would not call for the blushing of cheeks and the biting of lips in regret or guilt upon coming into contact with one another ever again.

She didn't ask him his name, didn't even speak to him in fact. She simply lay there for a few long moments as she tried to catch her breath, enjoying the lazy way he trailed his fingers up and down her bare spine. He did it in such a way that he seemed intrigued by her and simply couldn't resist continuing to touch her. His touch was light – exquisite in fact – and Hermione felt sure she could almost drop right off to sleep if he would just keep doing that.

"I'd have had a lot more fun in this place if I'd spent more time indulging in this particular extra-curricular activity like that," he joked softly, his voice still husky and somehow still eliciting a smattering of goose-pimples from her. Goddess, even his voice was seductive and designed for pleasure.

And there could be no doubt that he knew how to provide pleasure.

"I was thinking exactly the same thing," Hermione murmured. She'd never felt so satisfied and content in all her life and as she lay there she wondered why she'd wasted so much time putting off having sex for the likes of Ron when she could instead be enjoying it with anybody else who struck her fancy. It was clear that it was delightful. She was also painfully aware of the fact that her mystery man was far better at the activity than Ron was. She might've pulled something, in fact.

"You're not going to tell me who you are, are you?" he murmured a little while later as he trailed a line of kisses across her bare shoulder and along the length of her spine, seeming uninterested in the idea of simply getting up and wandering off now that he was done with her.

"No," Hermione murmured, "I'm not going to tell you who I am. I'm also not going to ask you for your identity. Anonymity is a privilege I'd like to enjoy a while longer."

The conversation dropped off when Hermione realised that he wasn't done with her just yet, something he demonstrated as his hands trailed over her flesh and began to stir more sexual desire within her. She wasn't even sure she was up to another round after that first one, and yet she felt a smile creep across her face anyway. Rolling to her back, Hermione reached up and pulled him down on top of her for another of those scorching kisses he so skilfully delivered.

"Do me a favour?" she asked breathlessly when they broke apart, his weight on top of her a delicious and welcome sensation.

He raised one eyebrow beneath his mask and Hermione grinned at him naughtily. 

"Leave some marks on my skin," she requested, liking the idea of leaving evidence of this night, of this man and this moment on her skin. Liking the idea of having Ron know what she'd done.

"You don't have anyone to hide them from?" he murmured curiously and Hermione simply grinned wider. The knowing smirk she got in return made her wonder if this mystery man knew that she was wilfully and enthusiastically being unfaithful, with the intention of being caught.

"Anything to oblige the lady," he purred in her ear before his lips set to work on the flesh of her neck, drawing blood to the surface again and again in a way that was so entirely seductive Hermione could barely stand it. She was unable to resist returning the favour, leaving several love-bites on his neck and shoulders along with some claw marks down his back.

She didn't rightly know how long she spent there in the Room of Requirement with her mystery man. She lost track of time, indeed of all reality, in his pleasurable presence and beneath his tantalizing touch. All Hermione knew was that it was a night she would never forget.

Fate wouldn't let her.


	2. Beautiful Disaster

Hermione was at the end of her strength when with one final, laboured push her son came into the world and began to scream. Slumping back against the pillows, Hermione momentarily ignored the urging of the midwives for her to try one last push to deal with all the placenta and other now unwanted gunk that had kept her son alive for the past nine months as he grew within her.

"Is he normal?" she whispered tiredly, her eyes fixed on the squalling bundle one of the healers clutched, trying to clean and dry the baby before handing him to his mother.

"He's perfect, Hermione," Ginny Weasley commented, holding her hand and peering at the child just as Hermione was.

Hermione smiled gratefully at her sister-in-law for the words she didn't have to say. Hermione and Ron had married when Hermione had learned she was pregnant in the months following the Graduation Ball when she'd been unfaithful to Ron. She didn't rightly know why she had married him, outside of the fact that for all his infidelities, she'd loved him. Ron knew the baby Hermione had just laboured to bring into the world wasn't biologically his.

She'd been vicious when she rubbed salt in the festering wound their relationship had become the evening of her own ventures in the arms of another. Ron knew the child wasn't biologically his son, but for all their past issues and despite the row they'd had when Hermione told him what she'd done, it seemed to have helped. Not once since the day she informed him of her own unfaithfulness had Ron strayed from her. His head had deflated greatly in the aftermath of the war and Hermione put it down to the fact that she'd been ready to leave him.

She'd confronted him furiously with his own indiscretion that evening before gleefully bragging about her own and it seemed to have been just what their relationship needed. Ron seemed to have required the knowledge that if he didn't stop being such a faithless bastard she would walk right out of his life. She suspected that in the beginning it had been more for fear of losing face over the torrid affairs Hermione had threatened she'd like to pursue with men she didn't even know, but nonetheless it had worked.

Ron had wised up. They'd chosen to both put their previous indiscretions to rest and forgive each other. Three months later when Hermione had learned she was pregnant, Ron had asked her if she thought the child was his. And Hermione had known without a doubt that it wasn't. She and Ron had always been careful with their contraception. However the night spent with her mystery man had been fraught with too much alcohol and emotional outpouring to recall the necessity of such precautions.

She'd admitted that she thought it was the child of the man she'd been with and Ron had looked momentarily devastated. Hermione had feared then that he would leave her. That he would refuse to raise another man's son, especially a man who Hermione couldn't even identify if she walked right by him on the street. She'd expected him to fly into a rage and leave her for good.

She'd never expected him to silently leave the room and return with an engagement ring, dropping to one knee and asking her to be his wife. When she'd questioned his logic all Ron had been able to tell her was that if it hadn't been for his own thoughtlessness and his own abrasive actions, she'd never had turned to another and by that reasoning the child was as much his responsibility as hers.

They'd been married within the month before she could really start to show, and in truth, despite the hard pregnancy, Hermione didn't think they'd ever been happier. Ron seemed content.

"Can I hold him now?" Hermione asked the healer as the woman returned with the fussing newborn in her arms.

"We've just tested his health and he's perfect, Hermione," the healer assured the young mother as she laid the baby boy in Hermione's arms.

Hermione had heard a hundred times about the magical bond that formed between a mother and her children, but she'd never expected it to be so sudden and so all-consuming. The moment the baby laid against her breast he ceased his fussing and blinked tiny grey eyes at her. Hermione recognised those eyes. She'd stared into them the evening her son had been conceived and she knew they were his father's eyes. The love she felt for the child swelled within her, taking her breath away and filling a hole in her heart she hadn't even known existed.

"Oh Hermione, he's darling," Ginny cooed from beside her, peering at the swaddled little boy with longing in her eyes. She and Harry were due to be wed next month and already Ginny was pining for children of her own.

"He is, isn't he?" Hermione smiled softly at the little boy, feeling her happiness grow when the little boy blinked his eyes at her and opened his mouth to show her a gummy smile in return.

"He's a bright boy, that one," one of the healers looking on commented, "Optical tracking like that usually takes a week or so."

"Of course he's bright," Ron's voice came from the doorway where he was leaning, looking at his wife with pride, "He's is mother's son."

Hermione smiled at her husband, catching the look of love in his blue eyes as he stared at her. She sometimes wondered what it was about her being his wife and a mother that had settled Ron, but she saw it every time he looked at her. He adored her. That much was clear. He might've made some mistakes in the past, and at times Hermione questioned her sanity to have forgiven him for them, but she supposed in the long run there were more important things.

Their youth had been spent fighting a war before they even realised they were doing so. It had been spent with just the three of them and Hermione knew that since the war had been won they'd both needed time to find themselves not as part of the Golden Trio - as the papers had taken to calling them - but as simply being their own people. Hermione had needed it. She'd needed to find out exactly who Hermione Granger was when she wasn't being the brainy sidekick of Harry Potter. She'd needed to find out what it was like to be with a man who wasn't Ron. She'd needed to learn how it felt to exist without Harry and Ron at her side, as she had done when she'd returned to Hogwarts to complete her final year while they'd joined the Auror program.

She'd even needed to take the trip to Australia to locate her parents and restore their memories before bringing them home. She didn't think it had been so much about the idea of growing up as simply maturing. As discovering who she was as a person. She'd not really put so much thought into it before then. She'd thought she was content and happy with her life and who she was. She hadn't realised there was a whole other world out there to be explored where she could be anything she wanted to be.

As she stared tiredly into the face of her young son, Hermione realised she'd needed to become the mother of a child whose father she wouldn't even recognise if he walked up and kissed her. There was something about motherhood and about how she already adored the child in her arms that told her this little boy was her greatest achievement.

"What are you going to name him, Hermione?" Ginny asked, still looking longingly at the tiny little boy.

"Etamin," Hermione whispered tiredly, unsure why she liked that name so much but recalling it was one of the brightest stars in the sky, "Etamin Antares Granger-Weasley."

Hermione chose to ignore the startled and mildly concerned expression her husband and her sister-in-law shared at her choice of such an unusual name. She didn't care if they thought it was strange. To her it felt right. And he was her son. She was almost being generous allowing the Weasley name to be tacked on the end.

**~O~O~O~O~O~**

In the years that followed Hermione had never been happier than when she was a mother. Etamin was a delightful child and Hermione loved that he took after her in so many ways. By the time he was five she had already fostered a deep and abiding love within him for reading, and he was already alarmingly intelligent. Often Hermione found herself wondering if his other traits were carryovers from the biological father he never knew.

He had a love for Quidditch that rivalled that of Harry and even Ronald. He also had a penchant for creativity that she knew neither she nor Ron had ever really exhibited. She often found him perched on the stool before the piano she'd inherited from her grandmother, plucking away at the keys to some tune inside his head. Always the same song, one Hermione didn't recognise as coming from anywhere other than within him.

He had a knack for drawing and was incredibly witty when it came to making up little songs to taunt his cousins. James and Albus could often be found playing with Etamin, all of them chanting some kind of nonsense at their other cousins on Quidditch days and whenever the three of them got the better of the others. Hermione expected that whoever his biological father might be, he was creative, witty and perhaps rather cruel at times. More than once she'd had to scold her son for being so sharp-tongued when he said things that were biting and mean to his cousins.

As he grew, Hermione knew that some of the others within the Weasley clan had begun to speculate that he might not truly be Ron's child. They never did so within Hermione's earshot of course, but she knew they doubted Ron was Etamin's biological father. It was much too obvious to Hermione that he was not.

He took after neither of his supposed parents in appearance. Beyond his intelligence, he looked nothing like Hermione herself, expect perhaps for the shape of his nose when he crinkled it as he laughed. He looked absolutely nothing like Ron. The signature Weasley red shade of hair was absent. He didn't have her hair either. Etamin's hair was thick, yet incredibly fine and so blonde that if not for the shine of youth and health Hermione would describe it as white. His intelligent grey eyes were nothing like Ron's blue pair or her own brown set.

Where his Weasley cousins were already gangly and goofy looking at times, Etamin was nothing like them. He was wiry and tall, yet he always seemed properly proportioned. He got away with it most of the time because he spent much of his time playing with James and Ablus, both of whom took after Harry's messy black hair, emerald eyes and skinniness.

"Mother?" Etamin asked her suddenly, drawing Hermione out of her speculation over the difference between her son and the Weasely children.

"Yes darling?" Hermione replied, unable to keep from smiling at him. She utterly adored the boy. So much so that she'd been putting off having any other children because she feared she wouldn't love them as much as she loved Etamin.

"Are you ready?" he asked, blinking at her seriously, "You said you would take me with you to Diagon Alley today."

"Oh… yes, I did, didn't I?" Hermione said, jolting to realise she had promised him just that and yet here she was sitting at the kitchen table and thinking about how different he was to the other children of this family.

"So are you ready?" Etamin asked, "I want to go to Wheezers and you promised we could stop by Flourish and Blotts for some new books."

"I know I did, darling," Hermione said smiling at him.

"Well…. You're not going in your dressing gown, are you Mum?" Etamin asked her and Hermione glanced down to see she was indeed still wearing her dressing gown and her house slippers. Her hair was undoubtedly a mess too.

"Would you be embarrassed to go with me if I did?" Hermione teased him.

"I could never be embarrassed by you, Mum," Etmain assured her with far more maturity than any five year old had a right to.

"You're the love of my life, you know?" Hermione told him, beaming at her child.

"I thought Dad was?" Etamin asked, frowning a little.

"No. Dad's my beloved husband. You're my heart and soul darling," Hermione smiled at him. She didn't want to lie to him.

Things with Ron had been a little rocky lately. He was craving children of his own. Biologically. He counted Etamin as his, but every now and then Hermione would catch Ron watching Etamin do something so totally un-Weasley that she could tell he was beginning to see the differences and that they bothered him.

"Is that why I don't have siblings?" Etamin asked her softly. He'd been begging for siblings since he was three when Albus had been born. He wanted a little brother of his own almost as fervently as Ron wanted a biological son of his own and Hermione had been putting it off. She and Ron had argued about it just last night, in fact.

"How could I love anyone as much as I love you, sweetheart?" Hermione asked, getting to her feet and scooping her son up to prop him on her hip.

"Gram said a mother's love is unconditional for all her children and that each one was her heart and soul," Etamin told her, quoting Mrs Wealsey with ease.

"Gram never had a child like you," Hermione told her son softly. She didn't know why she was so reluctant to have children with Ron. They'd been married five years, after all. She wasn't getting any younger, not that she was by any means old. Yet something held her back. Maybe it was simply the fear that any other children would pale in comparison to Etamin. Maybe it was fear that if she had Ron's children they would be typically Weasley and give away the even more obvious differences that Etamin wasn't Ron's.

Maybe it was reluctance to tie herself to Ron in that way. She might've forgiven him his misdemeanours in the past, but she didn't trust that he wouldn't relapse. She feared the day he would decide she wasn't enough for him again and she didn't want to deal with the mess of having biological children with him. As it was, if things went sideways with Ron she and Etamin would simply walk away.

Only she, Ron, and the Healer who'd delivered Etamin knew the truth, which was that Ron wasn't the boy's father. The father's information on his birth certificate was blank.

"Don't you want any more kids like me?" Etamin asked softly, looking like he might be offended.

"Etamin," Hermione said seriously, looking into his handsome little face, "I love you more than anything else in the world. I've been reluctant to have any more children because I'm afraid I wouldn't love them as much as I love you. I'm afraid I would compare them to you and find them lacking. Do you want to inflict that on a brother or sister? Do you want to be responsible for the fact that they wouldn't be loved as much as you?"

"No, Mother," he answered solemnly, "That would be unfair to them…. But I still want a sibling."

"I know sweetheart," Hermione sighed, "Why don't you run upstairs and put your shoes on while I get changed so we can go to Diagon Alley, alright?"

Etamin nodded, racing off up the stairs to do as he was told while Hermione followed at a more sedate pace. When she reached her room she changed quickly into some flattering green robes, being sure to wrap her favourite winter coat about herself. She supposed they would stop in on Ron while he was at work, since she had promised she would take Etamin to the Weasley Wizard Wheezer's store where Ron worked with George.

Angelina would probably be there with Fred junior and Roxanne, and the woman had been nagging Hermione for months about getting their kids to play together more often. Fred and Roxy were a year younger than Etamin and Angelina was always looking for chances to get the twins to spend time with other children besides each other. They were already little trouble makers too, so Hermione imagined Angelina wanted to make sure they didn't grow to be a co-dependant as Fred and George had been.

"Are you ready Mum?" Etamin asked, running into her bedroom to jump up on the bed Hermione shared with Ron every night, "Oh, you look nice."

Hermione glanced down at herself before looking over at her son.

"Thank you," she smiled, "I feel like a mess."

"But you look pretty when you're a mess, Mum," Etamin told her, "When you get all tidy for work days you don't look as pretty as you do today."

"Is that right?" Hermione asked, propping her hands on her hips whilst trying to hide her smile.

Etamin nodded solemnly.

"I like it best when you look comfortable and happy. You don't look comfortable when you have work. You look… severe."

Hermione marvelled at the perceptiveness of her child.

"I'm supposed to look severe on work days sweetheart," Hermione told him, "Otherwise those vampire who come in would think I was easily ruffled and try to push my buttons."

"But you don't ruffle," Etamin said, looking quizzical, "Even when your hair is all messy and you're stomping about the house arguing with Dad, you don't get ruffled. You just…. Stomp."

Hermione laughed.

"I take it you heard me and Dad fighting last night then?" Hermione asked. She'd never been one to hide things from her son, not because she didn't think he needed to remain innocent, but because some things were just a fact of life. He was far too mature for his five years as it was and certainly far too clever, to bother with fibbing to him. She understood of course that some things ought to be kept from him for his own protection until he was older, but that she and Ron sometimes had arguments was not one them.

"Of course I did. Dad was shouting," Etamin rolled his eyes, "Why didn't you tell him what you told me about giving me siblings?"

Hermione bit her lip, her hands fidgeting with where to put her wand whilst wearing her robes.

"I think Daddy would be hurt if I told him that, sweetheart," Hermione admitted.

"Why?" Etamin asked, "There's nothing wrong with being afraid you won't love another child as much as me. It would be like me getting a second cat. I love Orval too much to get a second cat. I wouldn't play with two as much as I do with one."

"Yes, but you're not a cat," Hermione pointed out, "And any siblings you have won't be cats."

"No, but it's the same principle," Etamin told her and Hermione's mind boggled to know that her five year old son could understand something her twenty four year old husband couldn't.

"But Dad would be upset sweetheart. He would see such an admittance as a failure on my part," Hermione explained.

"But why? Not everyone is capable of loving equally," Etamin said and Hermione wondered what kind of tiny genius she had birthed. He was five. How did he possibly understand the complexities of love?

"What makes you think that Etamin?" Hermione asked him, wondering at her own sanity to be having a philosophical debate with her five year old.

"Well, Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry don't love James and Albus the same way. They love them, but in different ways," Etamin said, "Aunt Ginny is like Gram. She bosses them and she fusses at them not to get dirty or run in the house or throw the quaffle across the dinner table. Uncle Harry ruffles their hair and tells them he loves them. He loves that they're naughty and that they drive Aunt Ginny batty. He shows his love by playing with them. She shows her love by cautioning them to be careful."

"But do you think that makes their love unequal?" Hermione asked him, wrinkling her brow a little.

"Not necessarily. They both love the boys. They just express it in different ways. You and Dad do too. I know you love me because you tell me often and you always talk to me about things like this. Dad only talks about Quidditch and gives me those stiff handshakes when he's proud of me for something," Etamin told her and Hermione marvelled at his ability to sound entirely rational and not at all bitter about it.

"Does that upset you?" Hermione asked him, frowning now.

"No," Etamin admitted, shrugging his shoulders and causing his soft blonde fringe to fall into his eyes, "I know it's why Dad wants me to have siblings and you don't. He has love left over for others and you don't. You pour all your love into me."

"What makes you so sure of that?" she asked, scooping him up into her arms and propping him on her hip.

"Of you loving me? Or of Dad being more reserved?" Etamin clarified.

"Both," Hermione grinned, tapping the end of his nose with her fingertips and peering into his intelligent grey eyes.

"I don't know," Etamin admitted, "With Dad I just feel like there's something there. Something that prevents him from loving me as much as you do. With you I have no doubt. You'd give me the moon if I wanted it."

"And you don't think Dad would?"

"No," Etamin said, "He'd tell me something about how the moon would be too big to fit in my bedroom."

Hermione chuckled at his suggestion, though inside she wondered if Ron had been less than affectionate as a father. She didn't think he had been. And yet, her son had noticed. That reservation he'd picked up on from Ron was undoubtedly the fact that Etamin wasn't Ron's son. He might not know that, but he'd certainly sensed that something was off.

"Are you excited to go to Diagon Alley?" Hermione asked, changing the subject.

"Yes. Can I have a new book? I've finished all mine and there's a new one in the series out."

"Of course you can. What's it called?" Hermione asked, carrying him downstairs and over to the fireplace, intending to Floo into the back room of the Leaky Cauldron.

"Raiders of the Lost Ark," Etamin told her, clearly forgetting all about their discussion as he launched into the wild tale about the pirates in the books he was reading.


	3. Makes Me Wonder

Draco Malfoy found himself in Diagon Alley feeling utterly bored. He'd come along at the insistence of his mother that he didn't get out enough anymore except on dates with boring witches. His mother had been complaining about his habit of buying them dinner and charming them into bed with him. In fact she'd been grumbling at him about it all bloody morning and he was running out of patience with her.

He'd been made all too aware that she was displeased with the fact that he was still single when so many of his peers – so many of her friend's children – were settling into marriages and beginning to have children.

"I just want to see you happy, darling," Narcissa Malfoy told him, clearly trying to sound innocent and like she wasn't nagging him. She was currently inside the change room of Madam Malkin's, trying on an exorbitant amount of robes for the upcoming season of parties and events she'd be attending this year.

She'd been working tirelessly to drag the Malfoy name back into the good books of the wizarding elite, with moderate success in the aftermath of the war and he was assured that meant she needed new robes to better achieve it. He was told it demonstrated their extraordinary amount of money and class. Mostly he just knew his mother liked to buy new things, no matter what they were for. She'd already forced him to be fitted for new robes, insisting he order plenty of new dress robes for the upcoming gala season despite his protests.

"Mother," he warned, crossing his arms over his chest in frustration and levelling a beseeching look to the seamstress, hoping Madam Malkin would distract his mother with more clothing. She needed to leave off. He was reaching the end of his wick and he didn't particularly feel like having to lose his temper with the woman again. They'd had a fight about this very topic many times already this year.

"Draco," she replied in the same tone, indicating she too was losing patience with him.

"What do you want from me here, Mother?" Draco demanded, glaring at her when she came out of the dressing room.

"I want you to realise that as the only heir to the Malfoy estate you have responsibilities. Which happen to include the marriage to a good woman and the production of an heir of your own to pass on the Malfoy name. And I want you to do so in a timely manner. If I have to deal with one more disgruntled witch at one of my events moaning over your willingness to bed her daughter without wedding her I'm going to smack you, my son."

"If you didn't invite the wretched women to your events you wouldn't have to deal with that problem," Draco informed her.

"If I didn't invite the mothers of every witch you've shagged to my events, I wouldn't have any bloody guests because you can't keep it in your pants! I don't understand why you're having such difficulty settling on a witch and marrying her. Your father was never this picky!"

Draco bit his tongue on the cruel remarks that popped into his head regarding her comment, not wanting to have a full-blown row with his mother in public. That simply wouldn't do. He also didn't much fancy the idea of telling her just why it was that he hadn't just picked a witch he could tolerate and married her.

He didn't think his mother would approve to learn he couldn't settle because all of them disappointed him in bed. He didn't think she be thrilled to know he was chasing a daydream about a girl he'd met one night years ago who'd blown him away without giving him her name. His mother would most likely have an aneurysm if she knew that one night five years ago he'd shagged a total stranger without all the mess of exchanging names and details.

He supposed it was the anonymity he craved. He'd liked that for that one night, who he was and what he'd done hadn't mattered at all. He'd tried chasing that feeling since, but they all recognised his white-blonde hair and the scar on his arm from the Dark mark. They all either wanted to sleep with him because of his dark reputation or because of his money and Draco found them all less than satisfying. Oh, some of the might be rather gifted, but they didn't have that fire he'd found in the masked witch from so long ago.

"I'm going to get a cup of tea," Draco announced to his mother, refusing to continue the discussion with her about heirs and wives and all that rot. He'd get to it eventually, he supposed. Just not today.

Stalking out of the shop, Draco made his way down the street, intent on reaching the café that had opened up where Florean Fortescue's Ice-Creamery had closed down, knowing they did good tea. He was out of sorts as he made his way down the street. In fact, he was downright distracted and he didn't see the little witch in the green robes until it was much too late.

"Oof!" she exclaimed as he collided with her.

Draco's hands came up automatically, catching her upper arms to steady her in an attempt to keep them both from falling to the ground.

"Excuse me," he apologised, "I wasn't watching where I was…. Granger?"

Draco's eyes widened when he leaned back and peered down into the familiar features of none other than Hermione Granger.

"Malfoy?" she asked, blinking at him in shock.

Draco stared at her in shock. He'd not seen the woman in five years. Not since they'd left Hogwarts. She was often in the papers, and occasionally she and the other war heroes attended some of the same events his mother dragged him along to, but he'd not seen her up close.

She looked good. Better than he remembered in the aftermath of the war. Her mane of hair was pulled into a messy bun that was somehow mildly becoming and she looked smart, yet causal in her green everyday robes.

"Oh, I think you dropped something," Draco said, releasing her to bend and pick up the parcels she'd dropped when he'd collided with her.

"Erm… thank you," she said when he handed them to her. She was staring at him in confusion as though she couldn't entirely believe her eyes.

"You're staring, Granger," he informed her when she didn't look away even when he held her gaze.

"I can't believe it's you," she admitted, "I've never heard you be so polite."

Draco caught the sparkle of amusement in her eyes when she said it and realised she was poking fun at him. The very notion made him feel strange.

"Yes well, I can be Edwardian in my manners when the need arises and when I'm at fault. Did I step on your foot?" he replied evenly, using the excuse to look her up and down.

"You did actually," she told him and Draco snorted at her blatant honesty.

He was just opening his mouth to reply when something else drew her attention.

"Mum! Mum? Can we go to Flourish & Blotts now?" a young boy asked, running up to her.

Draco's eyes widened at the sight of the child. He'd read in the papers that after the war Granger and Weasley had gotten busy and had a kid. That wasn't the surprise. The surprise was that the child looked entirely too familiar.

"Of course we can Etamin," she smiled at the little blonde haired boy.

"Who's this?" the boy asked, eyeing him and Draco blinked in open-mouthed shock.

"This is Draco Malfoy," she told him, "He went to school with Mum and Dad and Uncle Harry."

"I've heard of you," the boy told him, looking up and meeting his gaze boldly. He had grey eyes. Draco felt his stomach drop uncomfortably as the lad eyed him, "My name's Etamin Granger-Weasley."

When the kid offered his hand for Draco to shake, Draco glanced at Granger with mounting horror.

"Draco Malfoy," he managed in a strangled sort of voice, shaking Etamin's hand firmly.

"He's not as much of a git as Dad said he was," Etamin told his mother and Hermione chuckled.

"You shouldn't say so in front of him Etamin," Granger admonished seriously though she was laughing. Draco would've found it mildly funny too, under any other circumstance. His gaze jumped between the brown haired witch and the blonde haired boy with mounting horror.

"But if I don't he might never know that Dad thinks he's a bigger git than he seems," the kid said, "Can I go to the book store now?"

"Go on, rascal," she laughed, "Don't talk to strangers and don't break anything."

"Do I ever?" the kid asked, smirking at his mother wickedly and Draco felt ill. Merlin he was going to faint like some excitable maid. The boy ran off down the crowded street before Granger could reply.

"I should go," Granger told him, "He'll topple something over in that shop and wind up wanting to buy the entire stack."

"Granger, how old is your son?" Draco asked, his mind beginning to race.

"Five," she told him, "Why?"

"Five exactly?"

She wrinkled her brow at him in confusion.

"His birthday is in February, why?" she asked.

Oh sweet Salazar, Draco was going to be sick.

"I've got to go," he blurted, backing away from her with horror.

She looked mildly confused before shrugging and turning to follow her son down the street.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Hermione glanced over her shoulder as she and Malfoy parted ways. He'd turned white as a ghost when he'd spotted her son and she was entirely confused about the questions he'd asked about Etamin's age. She hadn't seen Draco Malfoy in a long time.

Oh, his exploits were often splashed across the gossip section of Witch Weekly regarding which new debutant he was dating and deflowering that week, but she'd not really seen him since Hogwarts. It seemed odd to do so now.

He'd looked much better than she recalled from the past. Some of the sharp edges he'd displayed during the war had dulled a little. He still seemed as pointed as ever. If she had to, she'd even say he was as attractive as he'd ever been before the war. She might not have much liked the man, but there could be no denying his aesthetic appeal. Pity his personality wasn't as pleasing as his looks.

"That man had hair like mine," Etamin told her when she found him inside the bookshop, piling books into a basket he'd picked up at the door.

"Yes, he did," Hermione said, feeling a strange pit in her stomach at the observation.

"Dad said he was a ponce, but he seemed alright," Etamin went on.

"Dad is jaded from years of being his rival at Hogwarts," Hermione told him, "And in the past Draco Malfoy wasn't always the nicest of people. He used to be quite rude, actually."

"When do I get to go to Hogwarts, Mum?" Etamin wanted to know, clearly more interested in his future schooling than he was in Malfoy.

"Not until you've turned eleven, sweetheart," Hermione smiled indulgently, "Six years from now."

"Is it better than school now?"

"In some ways," Hermione told him, "The castle at Hogwarts is wonderful, but you won't get to come home to me and Dad every day. You'll spend each term at the castle."

"But I'll be eleven by then," Etamin told her, "It will be good for me."

"Well you'll have to wait a while yet. You don't really want to buy all of those books, do you?" she asked, changing the subject when her heart constricted at the very idea of Etamin going off to Hogwarts and leaving her home alone with just Ron for company.

"Yes, please," her son smiled winningly and Hermione knew he was going to be a heart-breaker one day. He was already entirely too handsome for his own good.

"Are you sure you don't already have any of them?"

"I'm sure," he nodded enthusiastically.

"Well, alright then. Go and take them to the counter so we can pay for them and then we'll go and see Dad, alright?"

Etamin did as he was told, bouncing happily on the balls of his feet as he waited impatiently to read his newest books. As soon as they were paid for, he stuck his nose into the latest one in the series he was enjoying, trailing along beside her on the way down the street. He held one of her hands, trusting her to guide him around things while he read.

"What are you doing here?" Ron asked by way of greeting and Hermione could tell from his tone that he was still annoyed with her over last night's fight.

"Etamin wanted to come in," Hermione shrugged, letting herself behind the counter, ducking her head through to the back to say hello to George.

"He's not even paying attention to where he's going," Ron complained when Etamin walked under the counter and over to the stool in the corner behind the register, sitting down on it without even greeting Ron.

"It's the next in the series he's been reading," Hermione explained, eyeing her son adoringly, "Has it been busy today?"

"Not really. Bit quiet," Ron grunted, looking like he was still put out with her.

"I brought you some lunch," Hermione told him, offering him the brown paper bag with his lunch in it.

He eyed it grudgingly for a few minutes before accepting the bag from her and tearing it open, his stomach trumping his anger with her.

"You're not still pissed at me?" he asked when he'd bitten into the sandwich she'd brought him.

"Not much point," Hermione shrugged.

"I just…" Ron said, glancing towards Etamin, "I want…"

He didn't have to say it. She knew what he wanted. He wanted a biological child of his own.

"I know," Hermione sighed, "I just don't think I'm ready for that."

"You've already got one kid. What's the problem?" Ron demanded.

"I've only recently started going back to work," Hermione pointed out, "If I have to take maternity leave again so soon I might as well just give up working."

"It's not like we need the money," Ron shrugged, and therein laid the other big problem she and Ron had. He wanted her to be like his own mother. With children coming out her ears and taking up all her time. Hermione had goals beyond being a mother and Ron couldn't seem to grasp that.

"Can we not discuss it again today?" Hermione asked him, sighed wearily. She was so tired of fighting with him about this. She supposed it would be easiest to simply give in and just give him what he wanted, but some part of her wouldn't let her. It wasn't that she didn't want to have his children. It was that she didn't trust him not to rip their marriage apart.

She didn't trust that while she was run off her feet mothering his children, he wouldn't grow bored of her bad moods and her lack of sexiness and go looking for attention elsewhere. She didn't like to think about it, but it wasn't as though he hadn't cheated on her before. There was little to stop him from doing so again.

"Fine," he growled, ripping into his sandwich angrily while he glared at her.

Hermione bit her lip to keep from rolling her eyes.

"Etamin?" she called, "Come on, sweetheart. We're going home."

She didn't have the strength to put up with another of Ron's temper tantrums today. Ron narrowed his eyes at her for her words but Hermione ignored him. Etamin, for all his distraction, got to his feet and wandered over, taking her hand to allow her to lead him out of the shop.

"Bye Dad," he called distractedly without looking up from his book as Hermione led him around the counter and towards the door.

"We'll see you at home," Hermione told her husband when he narrowed his eyes at her son in annoyance.

Ron didn't bid either of them goodbye as they left.


	4. Unplanned

Hermione Granger looked up at the sound of someone entering her office three days later. She had a welcoming smile on her face, expecting her two o'clock appointment to be arriving and she frowned in confusion when instead of a stocky werewolf strolling into her office, her eyes were instead met with the sight of Draco Malfoy.

"Sir? Excuse me? Sir? You can't go in unless you have an appointment!" her assistant, Becky, was calling from her desk and Hermione listened to the sound of her four inch heels clicking as the girl came after Malfoy.

She reached the door in time for Malfoy to close the heavy mahogany wood in her surprised face.

"Malfoy?" Hermione asked when he turned back to her with an unreadable expression on his face, "You can't just barge into my office unannounced. I have appointments to keep and you're interfering."

He didn't say anything as he crossed the office to stand before her desk and Hermione clutched her wand in her lap, just in case this was a less than polite visit. She blinked in shock when he slid a sealed envelope across her desk towards her.

"Open it," he commanded in a tight voice, his grey eyes fixed upon her in a way that was most unsettling.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, picking up the package carefully. It wasn't heavy.

Again, Malfoy didn't say anything. He simply stared at her, waiting for her to do as he'd instructed and eventually Hermione's curiosity got the better of her. Against her better judgement, she tore open the wax seal stamped with the Malfoy crest and peered inside.

Hermione frowned when she saw that inside the envelope there were several photographs. Tipping the package up, she poured them out onto her desk, freezing with suspicion when she saw the subject of each photograph.

"What are you doing with pictures of my son, Malfoy?" Hermione asked him, her voice low and deadly as she turned her eyes and her wand on him threateningly. He didn't flinch back from her.

"That's not your son," he replied, "Turn them over."

Narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously, Hermione did as he said. And across the backs of each photograph was the name Draco Malfoy, along with dates each picture was taken. Turning them back over in confusion, Hermione stared wide-eyed at the pictures. Each one showed a little boy ranging in age from perhaps two until five years.

They all showed a little boy. His eyes were the same grey shade as Etamin's. His hair the same platinum blonde. Even the cheeky smile adorning his face was identical. They were almost exactly the same as many of the photographs she had at home of her son. The only difference was the slight age of the pictures, making them just the tiniest bit faded.

"Is this some kind of joke?" Hermione asked, glancing back up at Malfoy, who was still staring at her intently.

"No, it's not a fucking joke," he replied in a clipped voice, "So why don't you tell me why it is that your son looks identical to me when I was a boy, Granger? Because I'd bloody like to know!"

Dread poured through her like ice-water and Hermione's stomach flipped uncomfortably. A mounting sense of horror gripped her as she stared back down at the photos clutched in her trembling hands. She looked up at him again, then back to the photos, her mind desperately trying to reject the evidence right in front of her face. The boy in the photographs was so much like her own son that there could only be one explanation.

One terrible, horrible, sickening explanation for why Hermione's son looked so much like Draco Malfoy.

"No!" she whispered, dropping the pictures on the desk and slumping back in her chair. "No. It can't be… there's no way…"

"Granger," Malfoy warned, his voice sharp and unkind as he glared at her.

"He can't be your son," Hermione shook her head, denying the horrifying truth.

"Obviously he fucking can," Malfoy ground out.

"But I… we… I mean, I never," Hermione stammered. Her heart was racing inside her chest and she felt like she might be beginning to hyperventilate. She couldn't breathe.

"You sure about that?" Malfoy asked her seriously, "There's not even a possibility inside your mind that your son isn't Weasley's?"

"I mean, I knew he wasn't Ron's," Hermione blurted out, her cheeks turning red, "But I've never slept with you…."

"Then who's his father?" Malfoy demanded and Hermione felt her cheeks darken even more.

"I don't know," Hermione admitted in a whisper, her eyes wide and frightened.

"Then tell me this," Malfoy said in a low voice, "Five years ago, on the night of our Hogwarts Graduation Ball did you have sex with a stranger without removing your mask?"

"I… how did you…? Oh, Merlin," Hermione blurted her eyes going wide. "It was you?"

"It was me," Malfoy confirmed. "And I'm wagering you got pregnant that night?"

Hermione slumped back in her chair, staring at Malfoy in utter horror.

She could see it. Those same grey eyes. The blonde hair that matched her son's perfectly. Even the facial structure. Draco Malfoy was the father of her son.

"Fuck!" Hermione exclaimed.

She felt sick. She'd never felt so sick in all her life. Not even during the height of the war. What was she going to tell Ron? The man might've managed to get by the fact that she'd shagged a faceless stranger in response to his philandering ways, but there was no way he would ever love her or Etamin the same if he knew Draco Malfoy was Etamin's father. The last thing she needed to tell her husband when she was arguing against having his kids was that she'd birthed Draco Malfoy's son.

"Am I to take that as a yes?" Malfoy asked seriously, "You slept with someone in the room of requirement on Grad Ball night and got pregnant?"

Hermione nodded mutely, wondering if this was what it felt like to go into shock.

"Fuck!" Malfoy snarled, his hands clenching to fists at his sides before he threw himself down in the chair in front of Hermione's desk. They stared at each other in silent horror as the reality of the situation began to sink in.

What was she going to do? She couldn't tell Ron the truth. He'd fly off the handle. Merlin, he'd probably try to hex Malfoy into oblivion. And she couldn't keep it from him either. She got the feeling Malfoy wouldn't let that happen.

"We have a son," he said hoarsely, staring at her like she was an alien.

"I have a son," Hermione corrected him quietly. "You were just the sperm donor."

"Granger," he began in a warning tone. "Don't make this more complicated than it needs to be by trying to keep my son from me."

"He's not your son!" Hermione hissed, narrowing her eyes dangerously. "He's mine. Until five minutes ago I wasn't even aware we'd had sex. Had I known it was you in that room that night, I'd never have…"

"You think I would've?" he scoffed.

"No. I don't. Which is exactly my point. You and I dislike each other immensely, and by some wild chance we ended up shagging. As a result Etamin was born and while I will never regret or take back bringing him into the world, I can't say I'm thrilled to learn that you are his biological father," Hermione told him frankly.

"But I am his father," Malfoy pointed out coldly, "As much as neither of us are thrilled about that fact. Which leaves us with something of a conundrum."

"You want to be in his life?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows challengingly, "You actually mean to tell me that pureblood elitist Draco Malfoy means to acknowledge having sired a son with a muggleborn like me?"

"Don't fucking complicate it, Granger," he warned again, his eyes flashing dangerously, "This entire situation is screwy enough without you being a spiteful bitch about shit long-buried. Now what the fuck do we do about the fact that Etamin is my son?"

Hermione huffed in annoyance.

Her mind was reeling and anger was sparking in her blood, making her want to lash out irrationally in fear over the fallout she knew would come from this mess. Biting her lip, Hermione did the only thing she could think of right then to regain some semblance of control over her life as it began a rapid tailspin.

She got to her feet and stomped quickly around her desk to the door. Jerking it open harshly, she stuck her head out and looked at Becky.

"Becky, please cancel the rest of my appointments for today. Tell them I've had a sudden crisis crop up and reschedule them all for some time next week. Cancel tomorrow's appointments as well. I won't be in," Hermione instructed the petite blonde woman.

"Is everything alright Hermione?" Becky asked her, looking alarmed and concerned.

"No, it most certainly is not alright. When you're done with the appointments, please bring me an Earle Grey tea," she paused for a moment, sticking her head back into her office, "You want tea Malfoy?"

"Merlin, yes," he replied, "Strong and black. Two sugars."

"Did you get that Becky?" Hermione confirmed.

"Cancel all of your appointments for the rest of today and all of tomorrow, then bring an Earle Grey tea and a strong black tea with two," Becky confirmed, nodding her head, "I'm on it boss. Let me know if there's anything else I can do."

Hermione smiled gratefully before closing her office door again and eyeing the back of Malfoy's head where he sat at her desk. Merlin, if she was going to get through this a nice cup of tea just might not cut it.

Going to the cabinet to the left of her desk, Hermione dug out the liquor decanter and two glasses from inside. They'd been a gift from Harry two years ago when he'd taught her to appreciate a good glass of honey flavoured whiskey. She didn't bother asking Malfoy if he wanted one, she simply poured two, before carrying both of them back to her desk. A migraine was beginning to niggle behind her eyes and Hermione was dreading the afternoon ahead.

Malfoy grunted in surprise when she pressed the glass of whiskey into his hand before retaking her seat. He didn't say thank you before he brought the glass to his lips and drank the liquid down. Hermione sipped her own liberally, eyeing him hatefully.

As though it weren't bad enough that some terrible twist of fate meant he was the biological father of her son, Hermione needed a moment to come to terms with having had sex with him. In fact she needed a good long while to process the fact that up until a few minutes ago she'd been recalling that night pleasantly, having been somewhat enamoured with the entire experience. She'd bloody fantasised about it plenty of times since then and Hermione felt ill to know she'd been unknowingly fantasising about Draco Malfoy.

Could there be any greater horror?

"I'm still waiting for your answer, Granger," he pointed out after several long minutes went by in total silence, "What do we do about him being my son?"

"What do you want to do about it?" Hermione asked him, "Do you want to be part of his life?"

"That would be nice," Malfoy nodded, "And I'd like him to know I'm his father."

"Malfoy," Hermione whined, sighing in exasperation, "Do you have any idea how complicated and confusing that will be for him? Etamin is a genius! He's far more mature and far smarter already than some adults I know. What do you think it will do to him to have me tell him that though I've told him all along that Ron is his father, it's actually you instead?"

"He's only five, I'm sure he'll be fine," Malfoy said.

Hermione wanted to throw something at him.

"Are you that thick and that cruel?" she demanded, "He's going to be confused and hurt. He'll be heartbroken to know that all this time I've lied to him. And Ron is going to go ballistic!"

"Weasley isn't my problem. The kid's a Malfoy and he should bloody well know it."

"And how do you propose I explain all that to him? How should I tell him that all the cousins he thinks he has aren't actually biologically related to him? How do I explain that the man who's been tucking him into bed most nights isn't his daddy, some guy his parents don't like is instead?"

"How are you going to explain it any better to let me see him and spend time with the boy?" Malfoy challenged bluntly, "The best option is to tell him it's because I'm his father. And it has the added bonus of being the truth."

"And Ron?" Hermione demanded furiously.

"Weasley's your problem. You were the fool who married a cheating slimeball in the first place. Is he aware Etamin isn't his?" Malfoy retorted coldly.

"Yes," Hermione admitted, "You may recall that I asked for marks…. I rubbed his nose in what I'd done."

"I never envisioned you to have a vindictive streak," Malfoy commented, eyeing her strangely, "But that's not the point. If Weasley knows Etamin isn't his, I'll bet it's eating away at him and effecting his relationship with my son."

Hermione sighed, hating the fact that it was true. She and Ron still hadn't come to some sort of agreement regarding the additional children issue and she'd felt Ron's resentment growing. She suspected he knew on some level that she feared she wouldn't love any others as much as she loved Etamin. She also suspected he was beginning to resent Etamin for existing at all.

"The boy knows, doesn't he?" Malfoy asked, watching her closely, "He's noticed a difference?"

"He said something about it the other day," Hermione replied tiredly, throwing back the rest of her whiskey and praying for patience, "Ron and I have been fighting because he wants kids of his own. Biologically. Etamin doesn't know he's not biologically Ron's son."

"You don't want more kids?" Malfoy asked, looking intrigued by the beginnings of the story and clearly sensing there was a lot more to it.

"I don't. I'm afraid having any others would be unfair to them. I'm afraid I won't love them as much as I love Etamin. He's… he's wonderful. Incredibly smart; witty, clever, sharp, happy. He's everything I ever hoped for in a child. And I'm afraid others won't measure up. Not because they're Ron's, but because they won't be Etamin. But of course, I can't tell Ron that because he'll think it's about him. Anyway, I was explaining to Etamin that I couldn't love his siblings as I love him."

Hermione bit her lip.

"As I mentioned, he's terribly bright, and he asked me why I couldn't. It sparked a philosophical debate about love and he mentioned how it was understandable because not everyone is capable of loving equally. When I asked him what he meant, he pointed out the different ways people express their love. For example, Harry and Ginny. Ginny shows her love by being a wonderful mother and always fussing after her children. Harry shows it by playing with the kids often, joking with them and having a good time and telling them he loves them. Anyway, Etamin mentioned that he's noticed the difference too in the way Ron and I love him. He said he knows I love him and would do anything for him because I dote on him and tell him all the time. He said that with Ron, he gets Quidditch talk and stiff handshakes. He said that he understands why Ron wants more kids and I don't, because I pour all my love into him, while Ron has love left over for others."

"You let that git mistreat my son enough to think he's not loved?" Malfoy demanded, anger glittering in grey eyes identical in colour to her son's.

"Ron loves him. Just, not as much as he would his own kids. When I asked Etamin what he meant, he just said that he knows that with Ron there's something there preventing Ron from loving him the way I love him. He said he knows that if he wanted, I'd give him the moon, where Ron would tell him the moon wouldn't fit in his bedroom."

"He wants the moon?" Malfoy asked, baffled.

"Don't be daft. He was being metaphorical," Hermione rolled her eyes, "And before you ask, yes, a five year old as bright as Etamin is capable of being metaphorical."

"Bloody hell," Malfoy muttered, looking mildly alarmed, "But then he knows something is off with Weasley. It won't be hard to convince him it's because Weasley isn't his biological father."

"And then what exactly?" Hermione wanted to know, "You want me to destroy his relationship with Ron to know he's yours biologically, and then what?"

"What do you mean?" Malfoy asked, "I want to know the kid."

"But what is your plan here exactly?" Hermione asked him, "When this gets out, it will be all over the papers. I can already see the headlines, "Snobby Pureblood breaks tradition and sires half-blood with a muggleborn." Like it or not Malfoy, you and I are both prominent people in the wizarding world. Everything in our lives will be called into question and readers will go rabid for every detail. They'll want to know how the hell we hooked up five years ago. My marriage will be called into question. Ron will probably demand a divorce. Molly will never forgive me for letting everyone think he was Ron's kid. You'll be dragged into the entire mess. They'll say you knew and abandoned us. They'll paint Ron as the hero, rather than the cheating villain whose infidelity landed you and I in bed together in the first place."

"So you'd rather just keep me out of your son's life because you despise me?" Malfoy demanded.

"I want to know what you plan to do about this?" Hermione retorted, "You want to shatter my son's illusions and then what? You want him on weekends? You want to battle for custody of my son. Because I can tell you now, that's not going to happen. You will not take my son from me."

"Easy Granger," he said, holding his hands up placatingly, "I'm not going to fight you for him or take him from you. I just want to be a part of his life and to have him know I'm his father. If we can't come to some kind of agreement… well…. We have to. If it means you bring him to the Manor a few nights a week or something, so be it. I just want to be a part of his life."

"How can you sound calm about this?" Hermione demanded, eyeing him and wondering if he was barmy.

"I knew as soon as I saw him with you in Diagon Alley the other day that he was my son. I've had a few days to come to terms with this, even if I did need confirmation," he admitted seriously, "I also don't have a spouse that I need to worry about upsetting. I know it's none of my business, but why in Merlin's name did you marry Weasley?"

"I love Ron," Hermione told him stubbornly and he raised his eyebrows.

"No Granger, you don't," he told her, "A woman in love with someone doesn't shag me the way you did. You were furious and you were seeking revenge and you bloody well got it. The two of you slept around on each other. The dumbest thing you could ever have done was forgive each other and get married. Didn't he lose his nut at you when he saw the marks I left all over you?"

"Of course he did, and when I told him I was pregnant, he blamed himself. He realised he was being an idiot, we forgave each other, we got married and we agreed to raise Etamin as our own."

"Only Weasley's been bollocksing it up enough that the kid knows he doesn't love him right," Malfoy growled.

"And you want to make it worse by shoving this whole mess in his face? He's a child, Malfoy. He needs a stable home environment. Not a hodge-podge, being traded off on weekends deal. He needs to feel safe and comfortable and like he has a home; not like he's some vagrant floating between two different houses and two separated parents."

"Then move to the Manor," Malfoy shrugged his shoulders, "It's not like there isn't enough room."

Hermione wondered why her jaw didn't make a noise when it fell open so far it could've hit her desk. She stared at him wide eyed in utter shock and mounting horror. Had he actually just said that?

"Did you just hear yourself?" Hermione asked him, baffled by how calm he seemed.

"Are you always this dramatic?" he rolled his eyes, "Look Granger, the fact of the matter is, we're the kid's parents. You want to make sure he's safe and stable and happy. I want to be a part of his life, and would prefer it if he could do so while being all of the things you want too. So it stands to reason that if he needs to not being traversing between dwellings, and you won't live away from him, then you should both move into Malfoy Manor with me."

"You've lost your mind," Hermione surmised, feeling a prickle of pity at the very thought.

"No I bloody haven't, don't look at me like that Granger!" he snapped, narrowing his eyes on her, "We both know you're going to need somewhere to live when the shit hits the fan with Weasley and his family. Weasley might've forgiven you and blamed himself for you having someone else's kid when neither of you knew who Etamin's biological father is, but he'll never get by the idea that you were so pissed at him that you shagged me."

"It's not like I knew it was bloody you," Hermione protested.

"No, but try telling him that. What's he more likely to believe? That you threw a tantrum and shagged his worst enemy before lying and saying you didn't know it was me. Or that you just had a few too many, trying to drown your sorrows and we both just happened to enjoy anonymity enough not to ask for each other's identity before going at it like bunnies? Because I know which one I'd pick if I hadn't been there," Malfoy told her and Hermione felt the pit of dread inside her stomach begin to churn.

She might be sick.

"And so you're just throwing out the idea that you and I – two people who strongly dislike each other – should just move in together with our love-child when my husband divorces me?"

"Where else are you going to go?" Malfoy asked her, "The Weasleys won't just straight up forgive you for lying to them. And Potter won't take you in, he's married to a Weasley and they'd never forgive him either if he did. So where else will you go? Who else do you have in your life who isn't going to be horrified and disgusted to know you birthed my son?"

Hermione barely managed to snag the waste paper basket from beneath her desk before the contents of her stomach made a reappearance. Malfoy didn't say anything as she coughed and gagged into the bin under her desk. She'd slipped out of her chair to sit on the floor, clutching the trash can like it was her only lifeline.

What was she going to do?

Malfoy was right. The Weasleys would never forgive her if they knew she'd birthed Draco Malfoy's offspring. It was one thing to have lied and told them all that Ron was Etamin's father. It was entirely another to have done so when she'd lied to them about who his real father was.

Her life was ruined. All of it. It was all over. She would be a divorced, single mother. Disgraced in the wizarding world. Abandoned by all her friends and everyone she cared about. Her son would never forgive her for lying and landing them in this mess when the Weasleys all refused to let him play with their children anymore.

Hermione realised that she'd begun to sob as she clutched her trashcan. She didn't think there was anything left in her stomach but bile. She felt even worse when movement caught her eye and Malfoy's shined shoes appeared next to her on her side of the desk.

She sobbed harder when he squatted next to where she was sitting pitifully on the floor and handed her a damp towelette for her face. He aimed his wand into the waste basket and vanished the mess she'd made. Hermione flinched when he carefully gathered her loose long hair and smoothed it down her back so she wouldn't get any mess in it.

"I vomited all night when I realised," he told her as Hermione wiped her face and tried to pull herself together. He handed her a breath mint when she disposed of the towelette before offering her a hand to her feet. Hermione was trembling as she took it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. She watched in a daze as he poured her a second glass of whiskey, pressing it into her hand before helping himself to more and returning to the chair in front of her desk.

"My life is ruined," Hermione muttered to him in horror.

"Is it?" he asked, watching her over the rim of his glass speculatively.

"What do you mean? Of course it is," Hermione spat, glaring at him for his conversational tone.

"Why? Because your loveless marriage will come to an end?" he asked, "Because the lying, cheating bastard you married to will be out of your life?"

"There's a lot more to my life than Ron," Hermione retorted, "The rest of his family have been like my own since I was twelve years old! They'll never speak to me again when they find out. They'll refuse to let Etamin play with their kids anymore! My son will hate me over this."

"I think you're being dramatic," Malfoy informed her, "They might not be willing to take you in if Weasley throws you out, but they're not going to just abandon you Granger. Yes, I imagine it will take them some time to come to terms with the truth, but eventually they will do so. I think you'll find that once the initial shock wears off, they'll prove that like most people, no one wants to take sides or get in the middle of a messy break up. They'll still let Etamin play with their kids. They'll still talk to you once the shock wears off."

"You think they still will if I take you up on your offer?" Hermione asked darkly.

"I don't know," Malfoy shrugged, "They'll have their suspicions, I expect. But most people are mature enough not to get involved the affairs of others when they actually know them. We might all scramble to the gossip section of the Prophet each morning to see what those we don't know or care about have been up to, but when we're effected it's less amusing and more awkward."

"I really wish I hadn't run into you the other day," Hermione told him, skolling her drink before laying her forehead on the table.

"Real nice, Granger," he grunted but Hermione didn't bother looking at him for his annoyed tone.

"Oh shut up. You've ruined my life, you don't get to be pissy," she told him, her fingertips massaging her temples as her migraine grew.

"I've ruined  _your_  life?" he scoffed, "Woman I've been doing my damnedest for years to keep from siring a kid with any of the witches I sully, arguing with my mother about the need to produce an heir, and all along you've been raising that heir. My life is ruined. Do you know what my mother will do when she finds out about this?"

"Cry, probably," Hermione told him, "Possibly arrange for the assassination of me and Etamin."

"She'll try to insist I marry you," Malfoy corrected her.

"What?" Hermione yelped, lifting her head in alarm.

"First, you're the mother of my heir, and secondly, you're muggleborn. Do you know how hard she's been working to get the Malfoy family back in the good graces of wizarding Britain? To my mother you and Etamin will be a goldmine."

"If you think for even a second," Hermione began hotly.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Granger, I didn't say I'd let her talk me into it," Malfoy held up his hands again, warding off her threats before she could voice them.

"This is a nightmare," she told him, groaning as she rubbed her temples some more.

"I know," he replied, eyeing her strangely.

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, wondering if she needed some Aspirin or if she should just finish off the rest of the whiskey in her liquor decanter. When she opened them at the sound of her office door being opened by Becky - who was carrying tea - Hermione found Malfoy still watching her.

"Oh Merlin, Hermione are you alright?" Becky asked her, looking concerned when she spotted the state Hermione was in.

"No," Hermione admitted truthfully, accepting her tea and taking a sip. Holding the cup, feeling the familiar warmth seep into her skin, Hermione felt mildly calmer.

"Is there anything I can do?" Becky offered, hovering about and clearly distressed by the state Hermione was in.

"Not really, Becky. Thank you for the tea," Hermione sighed wearily.

"It's no trouble. If there's anything I can do, you just let me know, alright?"

Hermione nodded tiredly, aware that Malfoy was still watching her. He didn't seem to want his tea after all, still drinking whiskey as he sat there before her desk.

"Why are you staring at me, Malfoy?" Hermine asked him when she'd warded the door after Becky closed it with a click.

"Trying to rationalise the Granger I know and torment against the woman I shagged in that room," he replied evenly and Hermione choked on her tea.

"Why would you say that?" she choked, coughing on the liquid lodged in her throat as she stared at him wide-eyed in alarm.

"Because if it weren't for the evidence, I'd never in a million years believe it could possibly have been you behind that mask," he shrugged.

"I'd really rather not discuss it," Hermione told him bluntly, "I don't want to vomit again."

He smirked at that as though Hermione amused him.

"So, what now?" he asked her, still watching her when neither of them said anything else for several minutes

"Why do you want to be part of his life?" Hermione asked him, frowning.

"Is that a trick question?" he wanted to know, eyeing her mildly, "I want to be a part of his life because biologically he is my son. And because I have a right to know my own child."

Hermione stayed silent, pondering him carefully.

"I think it might be best if you meet him before I tell Ron. I mean, I know you met him the other day in Diagon Alley, but that was rather brief. I don't want to go upsetting him and uprooting everything he knows – not to mention everything in my own life – on the off chance that you mean to stick around long enough to actually care for him."

"You doubt that I'll want to have anything to do with my own son?" he asked seriously, raising one eyebrow at her and Hermione realised that he'd already had the chance to get used to the idea of being a father and had decided that come hell or high water, he wanted this.

Hermione was surprised by that.

"I don't doubt that you want to have something to do with him, Malfoy. I just doubt your staying power. It's well and good to say that you want to be in his life and help raise him now, but the realities of child rearing are far removed from the romantic notions that are thrown about regarding the topic. The most important illusion being that a child will be cute and loveable all the time and that they'll be tiny replicas of their parents. I can assure you that Etamin is very much his own person. In some ways he's very much like me. In others, I've noticed traits that I recall you exhibiting in our youth. And sometimes he's a bit like Harry or Ron. And then there are some instances where he is just entirely Etamin. Where he might do or say something so far removed from the personal traits of anyone we know, that I just sit there in shock."

"I'm not suggesting that I want to mould him into a little clone of myself, Granger," Malfoy rolled his eyes.

"No, you're just wanting to barge in to upset the applecart and make everything all the more complicated," Hermione grumbled.

"Listen, witch," Malfoy snapped, his grey eyes flashing, "You were to one who went and attached yourself to a cart of rotten apples. You were the one who committed adultery in retaliation against your philandering boyfriend and got pregnant with my kid. You were the one who stupidly married the faithless bastard and insisted on having him try to raise my kid. Don't you dare sit there and blame me for wanting to be in my own son's life when your wanker of a husband is doing a shoddy job at being my son's father."

"It's hardly my fault Ron is a selfish bastard," Hermione protested before recalling who she was talking to and why she shouldn't be badmouthing her husband.

"And yet you married him anyway," Malfoy sneered, "It's not as though you hadn't the chance to get to know him beforehand. You married him knowing he was a selfish, egotistical, self-entitled wanker with a chip on his shoulder and a penchant for loose women who aren't bloody you. And to make matters worse, you combined all of those things with demanding he play Daddy to another man's kid. What did you think would happen, Granger? The bloke has a swath of older brothers whom he's been overshadowed by for most of his life, making him feel the burning need to prove himself and you ask him to raise someone else's son?"

Malfoy was glaring at her over her desk while Hermione narrowed her eyes on him, furious with his words and feeling a twist of annoyance to know that most of those things were true about Ron. He wasn't a bad person. He had a strong sense of loyalty to his friends and he could be rather smart at times. But he certainly had his faults.

"It's no wonder he's been badgering you about letting him knock you up," Malfoy went on coldly, "He's the type who will feel like he's failed if he doesn't do what everyone else has done. Potter's got a couple of kids by now, most of Weasley's brothers do too. And his own bloody wife has a kid who's technically not his. I don't think you really need me to tell you that continuing in a relationship with him – especially one where you've birthed  _my_  son – without giving him a few brats that are biologically his, is a recipe for destruction. You deny him enough and he'll fuck his bastards into some other tart's belly."

"Why are we discussing my marriage?" Hermione bristled, "You're here about Etamin, not Ron."

"I am," he agreed, "And you're telling me I should walk the hell away and let my son be mistreated by your wanker of a husband – a bastard who will eventually abandon you and my son. It's not going to fucking happen, Granger. I don't much care if your marriage self-destructs as a result of him learning Etamin's mine and I don't at all care for your doubts about my ability and inclination to be the boy's real father."

"It's not that simple Malfoy," Hermione hissed at him, "If he were younger or less of a genius, it might be. If he were still a toddler with no real idea of who was who in his life this would be simple enough. Yes, I am concerned about the impending doom of my marriage. But this is about Etamin. He knows Ron to be his father. He might've realised Ron doesn't love him quite right, but he still believes that Ron is his father. If you just waltz in claiming you're his father he'll be hurt and he'll be confused."

"So you want to wait until he's older and more damage is done?" Malfoy asked cruelly, "Until Weasley loses his shit at you about raising another man's son – my son, at that - when you won't raise his kids where the tot might hear him? You want Etamin to suffer the horror of knowing his pretend Daddy isn't his father and doesn't love him? You want to subject him to that fight, knowing Weasley will blow up about it and snarl over Etamin not being his son? You think that will be better for the kid's psychological state?"

"I don't want to ever bloody tell him," Hermione snapped, "I never wanted to have to deal with the idea of having you find out that you are his father and I never wanted Ron to love him less. It's why I've been refusing to have kids with Ron. Because I just  _know_  he'll show them more love and care than he gives Etamin and I don't want to break my son's heart like that."

"And I'm sure fear of him cheating on you again has nothing to do with it," Malfoy rolled his eyes and Hermione's stomach flipped at his ability to guess her reasoning so well, "Look Granger, like I said, your marriage is your business. But when it affects my sons it also becomes my business and I won't allow you to dictate when I can and can't claim the boy as mine based on the whims of your sham of a marriage."

"All I said was that I'd rather have you meet with him and decide this is actually what you want before I go completely upsetting him," Hermione grumbled.

"Yeah, but I heard loud and clear that you want to take the coward's way out, hoping I'll give up on the idea of claiming my son just by meeting him. I can assure you it will not work," Malfoy informed her coldly.

"Since when are you so interested in the idea of having a kid anyway, Malfoy?" Hermione demanded, "Last I heard you were raking your way through every eligible pureblood witch and a good number of the half-bloods too. Why would you suddenly want to have a kid when everything in your history suggests a severe lack of commitment and a distaste in general for being a husband or a father?"

"I don't suddenly want anything," Malfoy snapped, "It's just a cold, hard fact that I do have a son. With you. And I want to take responsibility for him. More to the point, I've thus far avoided marriage and fatherhood because every witch I sully is so bloody dull and the idea of having to marry them for the sake of producing an heir made me nauseas. In this instance you already have the child and I highly doubt you're going to demand I ever marry you. It's really a win-win situation. I get an heir without needing the inconvenience of a dull wife. You get a ticket out of a marriage that would eventually leave you penniless and possibly too old to consider remarrying. And Etamin gets to be raised by a man who will actually love him as a man should love his son, rather than a resentful bastard who sees him as a hurdle to getting what he wants from his wife."

"Oh well doesn't that just make it all better?" Hermione snarled, "Never mind the scandal we'll face in the eyes of the wizarding world. Never mind the fury and disappointment I'll receive when people learn that I'm a liar who shagged the likes of you. Never mind that our son will be left confused and hurt over being lied to and over replacing one Daddy for another man he's met once. No, it's all about you getting the heir you need and me avoiding being cheated on again."

"I was merely pointing out some of the advantages of this mess, Granger, not dismissing the drawbacks and fallout we'll both face," Malfoy replied, eyeing her as though he was both annoyed and amused.

"Why did you bloody have to run into me in Diagon Alley?" Hermione moaned, covering her face with her hands, "Why did it have to be you – of all people – in that stupid room that night?"

"Kismet?" Malfoy suggested, "After all, the chances of us every shagging were astronomical. More to the point you and Etamin just happened to be in the Alley the same time and the same day as me in order for us to run into one another."

"You believe in fate?" Hermione asked, peering at him through her fingers with some concern.

"After everything that went down with Potter and the Dark Lord and that whole prophecy nonsense, how can you not believe in fate, Granger?" he asked her mildly.

"Because I know there was a choice and that it's our choices that determine the path we take, not some higher power," Hermione told him.

"And it was your choice that you wanted to retaliate against Weasley for cheating on you rather than simply breaking up with him. It was my choice to return to the scene of my crime before leaving the school for a final time to wallow in my regrets and instead encounter an angry and lustful witch seeking revenge on her partner. It was your choice to travel to Diagon Alley three days ago with your son. It was my choice to abandon a fight with my mother in favour of fetching a cup of tea so I didn't strangle her about needing an heir. Choices we both made put us on this path."

"I'd forgotten you took Divination until fifth year," Hermione rolled her eyes, "Of course you believe in that rubbish to some extent."

"We're not here to discuss this nonsense anyway," Malfoy reminded her, "We're here to discuss how and when you will allow me to meet my son and be in his life. And to figure out some kind of arrangement that will see two former enemies and childhood rivals raise their shared child harmoniously and without further scaring the kid's mental status."

Hermione sighed, closing her eyes. She felt tired. Exhausted even. She hadn't been sleeping properly because she'd been fighting with Ron all week and agonising over her discussion with Etamin. This mess with Malfoy was just too much to handle right now. She didn't want to deal with it. With any of it. She knew she had to but honestly she just wanted to curl up and cry for a little while before pulling up her Big-Girl knickers and getting on with it.

"Just…." she sighed again, "Just hang around then. Ginny will be by to drop Etamin off at four."


	5. Play Nice

Malfoy raised his eyebrows in surprise and Hermione turned her attention back to the pictures on her desk. The ones he'd given her that depicted the many similarities between him and her son.

"How did you not realise that he was mine?" he asked a little while later, leaving her to peruse the photographs and marvel over the similarities.

"It just never occurred to me," Hermione admitted, "Now that I know, I can't believe I didn't put it together. It simply never occurred to me that he could be your son because I never considered for even a second that it could have been you behind that mask."

"The obviously Malfoy traits weren't a hint at all?" he asked sceptically.

"No," Hermione shook her head, glancing at him, "I mean it's not like I've spent a lot of time noting the colour of your eyes. We avoided each other at school. You picked fights with Harry and Ron, but after I punched you in third year you only ever targeted me if things got out of hand with Harry and Ron and I had to get involved. It's not like I went about mooning over you so much as to note your eye colour. I simply knew that you had blonde hair and were a git."

"Etamin's hair is the same shade as mine," he pointed out.

"Yes, but it's not uncommon for young children to have brilliant blonde hair. I was blonde as a toddler, and I've a few cousins who had the same shade of blonde in their hair until they were in their teens. I assumed it was a carryover from my genes," Hermione explained honestly.

"And his eyes? Grey eyes are rare, Granger."

"I know," she nodded, "But one of the few things I recalled of  _that_ night was the eye colour of the man I was shagging. Your eyes were all I could see of your identity. I knew Etamin had been born with his father's eyes when he was born. I just never connected that  _you_  have grey eyes."

"Still though, even in the wizarding world eyes like mine are uncommon. Only those of the Malfoy or Black bloodlines have them and you would have known I'm one of the few carrying both bloodlines on," Malfoy pointed out.

"I don't make it a point to memorise categorizing traits of wizarding genetics, Malfoy. I had other things to deal with. Like being involved in a war and dealing with being pregnant right out of school," Hermione argued, "And if I'm being completely honest I wasn't really interested in finding out the identity of Etamin's father. The anonymity was something I savoured. Had I discovered it was you, I'd probably still have kept it from you and I'd have blushed and stammered like a naked virgin every time I saw you, recalling what we did to each other."

"Like you're blushing now?" he smirked at her and Hermione felt her cheeks heat further at his mention of it, "Thought I do have a hard time believing it was you doing all those things. Who'd have known Hermione Granger was a spitfire in the sack?"

"I believe you're the only one aware of that fact, actually," Hermione told him quietly, blushing harder, "So I would appreciate you keeping it to yourself."

"You don't shag Weasley like that then?" he asked, looking concerned.

"I have to look him in the eye afterwards," Hermione shrugged.

"You're looking me in the eye right now, what's the problem?"

"I never knew it was you. I can assure you that I had I known whom I was shagging – be it you or anyone else – I'd never have been so… unrestrained," Hermione told him, "I have my dignity and my reputation to think of."

"And so you deprive yourself in bed?" he asked, looking baffled, "Merlin, your marriage is even more of a shambles than I thought."

"Excuse me?" Hermione demanded, narrowing her eyes on him.

"Oh come on, Granger, don't be thick," he told her, "You've been married to a bloke for five years and you can't even be honest and open about your sexual fantasies and needs. That's got to tell you something."

"It tells me I'm smart enough not to go blabbing about such things lest they get out," Hermione retorted.

"Displaying a severe lack of trust in the one person you should trust the most in the entire world," Malfoy rolled his eyes, "I can't believe you married the sod. You don't trust him, you've fucked around on one another and based on your silent acceptance of my criticisms of the man you don't much love him either. From what I can see, you stay with the bastard out of fear of being alone or being disowned by his family."

"Ron's been my friend for twelve years," Hermione protested.

"Yeah, and he's been your spouse for five. Yet you don't trust him and you're not in love with him. You married the bloke under false pretences because you confused friendship with romance and I'll bet it was also because it was expected of you," he shook his head in disgust.

"Can we discuss something other than my sex life and my marriage?" Hermione demanded, her cheeks flaming with both embarrassment and anger now.

"Just calling it like I see it, Granger," he smirked wickedly at her, "Tell me about my son?"

"What do you want to know?" Hermione asked, pouncing on the change of topic. It was a much safer topic that the previous one.

"Everything," Malfoy admitted, leaning forwards a little, "When is his birthday?"

"February seventeenth," Hermione told him.

"What was his first word?" Malfoy asked.

"His first cohesive word was 'apple'," Hermione informed him, "Though he'd mastered 'boo' and 'mumumumum' as well."

"What is he like?" Malfoy wanted to know, "You said he's a genius?"

"He is," Hermione smiled fondly as she thought of Etamin, "He's only five but he's so clever. He was optically tracking right out of the womb – which is rare. Usually optical tracking takes a week or two. He just grasps things so quickly. He can already read – exceptionally so for someone his age – and any words he comes across in his books that he doesn't know, he looks up in the dictionary he insisted I give him."

"Has he taken his W.O.M.B.A.T.s yet?" Malfoy wanted to know, referring to the wizarding equivalent of early learning aptitude tests for children.

"Yes," Hermione nodded, "He broke the testing system. They actually had to ask me to come in and sit down with them to discuss it. They wanted to put him in an accelerated program at Tussaints – that new wizarding elementary school. They also asked that the Unspeakables run a few tests on him."

"Did you say no?" Malfoy asked, aghast by the idea.

"I insisted on being present for all of them and I only agreed to it after Etamin said he wanted to do it. Mostly it was just about monitoring his mind as he solved puzzles and problems. They had him trying to perform magic too – quite successfully," Hermione told him seriously.

"Definitely not a Squib then," Malfoy grinned.

"The likelihood of Muggleborns throwing Squibs is very rare, actually," Hermione told him, "It has to do with the Magical gene manifesting from both parents having magical ancestors. Meaning that somewhere in my family tree on both sides there are witches and wizards who bred with muggles. Being muggleborn tends to make for more profound magical ability."

"Then why have I been taught that purebloods are more powerful my whole life?" Malfoy frowned, clearly not knowing that.

"Honestly?" Hermione asked, "I think originally purebloods were baffled by the idea of others being more magically gifted and so they started falsifying information and it just took root. Generally speaking purebloods are more magically powerful than half-bloods who have one magical and one muggle parent. In muggleborns the pair of magical genes overpowers the muggle genes and makes for stronger magical beings. It's why I am so gifted."

"And here I thought you just studied too much for your own good," Malfoy rolled his eyes.

"That was certainly a factor. I actually have you to thanks for some of my academic achievements," she told him in the humblest of tones, "If you hadn't picked on me for my blood status, I wouldn't have worked quite so hard to be such a know-it-all. I was naturally curious about everything in the wizarding world, but I'd never have worked so hard to prove myself as belonging there if you hadn't been such a sod."

"You're welcome," Malfoy smirked widely, "I feel I should be compensated for all these favours I've done for you."

"Favours plural?" Hermione asked, frowning at him.

"Made you study harder to be brilliant; shagged you so well that one time; gave you such a fantastic kid. You owe me, I think," he told her arrogantly and Hermione felt a flicker of annoyance before she caught the gleam of humour in his grey eyes and realised he was trying to bait her.

"I'm sure I've evened the score," she smiled, "What with giving you an heir without the hassle of marriage or the stress of raising him through his toddler years. Not to mention saving your life that time during the war."

"Now, now," Malfoy clicked his tongue, "I saved you and your lot at the Manor first. We're even when it comes to life-debts."

"I don't know," Hermione argued, "There were all those times I had to rescue you from Harry and Ron's wrath. I think you owe me more than you could ever realise."

"They'd never have killed me," he shook his head, "Probably just bloodied my lip or hexed me a bit."

"Still though," Hermione smirked at him, surprised when he smirked back at her. She was shocked, in fact to find herself able to tease Draco Malfoy in good fun. It was clear he'd matured a lot since the war and the idea of playing nice with him was almost foreign to her, yet appreciated the sentiment.

If she had to handle the rest of her life tolerating him for Etamin's sake, in any regard, it would be best if they could be cordial or even friendly. Hermione hated herself just the tiniest bit when a flash of memory of the night they'd spent together played behind her eyes.

"How often does the tot have school?" Malfoy asked, still smirking and clearly pleased that she'd played along though it was tough to tell when his facial expression were so foreign to her.

"He goes to Tussaints three mornings a week – Wednesday, Thursday, Friday. I also send him to a muggle pre-school on Tuesdays. I want to make sure he understands and is involved in muggle culture as well as wizarding culture. It also keeps my parents off my back about him having a well-rounded education and proper socialisation," Hemrione told him, "Monday's he goes to Ginny's until I finish work at four. She looks after him and he gets to socialise with Teddy, James, Albus and the other Weasley kids."

"How many in that brood now anyway?" Malfoy wanted to know.

"Harry and Ginny have James and Albus at the moment, though I suspect Ginny might be pregnant again. They're also raising Teddy Lupin – Remus and Tonk's son. He's Harry's godson and Andromeda was a little too broken up over the loss of her daughter, her husband and her son-in-law to cope very well in the beginning. As soon as the war was over Harry took Teddy on, insisting he was happy to do it and that it would be good for Teddy to be raised with a father figure and all that rather than by only his Grandmother. Andromeda actually lives with them at Harry's place – she's got her own cottage on Harry's land so they're co-raising him."

"Teddy," Malfoy mused, "Nymphadora's kid, right?"

Hermione nodded.

"I remember hearing she was pregnant during the war. She was my cousin, you know? That kid's my second cousin. What's he like?" Malfoy asked and Hermione was surprised by the interest he was showing.

"He's lovely. A little shy to begin with, but once he's comfortable he really comes out of his shell. He's a metamorphagus like Tonks was. Most of the time he alternates between his natural, resting state – which is a little boy with blonde and turquoise hair – and looking like Harry, James and Albus. Dark hair, green eyes. Every now and then he impersonates the other Weasley kids too, red hair, freckles. He's a happy kid. He doesn't know really that Harry and Ginny aren't his parents. He calls them Mum and Dad, same as James and Albus do. He's only six, so it's too early to really explain to him that he's actually Remus and Tonks's son and that his real parents are dead."

Hermione sighed sadly.

"They all play with Etamin? He gets along with them?"

"Oh yes," Hermione nodded empathically, pushing away her sadness over the fallen, "Teddy and Etmain are very close because they're so close in age. James is three and Albus is just a tot. He's only just gone two years old. The others they play with are Victoire – Bill and Fleur's eldest daughter, and Percy's got two girls, Molly and Lucy. Victoire will be six in a few months. Molly and Lucy are four and three, respectively. George and Angelina had twins too – Fred II and Roxanne – they're three, the same as James and Molly."

"Bloody hell," Malfoy blew his cheeks out, "That's lot of Weasley rugrats getting around. Hogwarts is going to be swamped with a tide of ginger when they're all of age."

"I know," Hermione grinned, "But it's nice that they're close in age and all being raised close together."

Malfoy eyed her for a moment.

"You do realise, don't you, that when you talk about them you get that gleam in your eye that all witches get when thinking of kids?" he asked her quietly, "You claim not to want any more kids, but that look in your eyes suggests otherwise."

Hermione glanced at him, startled by his observation.

"How do you recognise that gleam?" Hermione asked him.

"I'm one of the most eligible wizards of pureblood society with plenty of witches who want to bear my children, Granger. I've had to learn to recognise that gleam so I know which ones to avoid shagging lest they trick me into knocking them up," he informed her, "But your answer begs the question of why you claim not to want more children when you're expression suggests otherwise."

Hermione bit her lip. She didn't know why she was talking to him. She didn't really want to seem like they could just discuss anything and everything. And yet, there was something almost comforting about talking to him. She'd never had much cause to speak to him in the past, and she did want to play nice so that dealing with him to raise Etamin would be easier.

"When I was young I always imagined having a large family," Hermione admitted to him with a shrug, "It was one of the reasons Ron and I married, actually. Despite feeling overshadowed by his siblings at times, he and the rest of the Weasley's all adore being from such a large family. Originally, when we first discussed relationship goals – before we cheated on each other and I had Etamin – we both agreed that a big family would be wonderful."

"So what's holding you back?" Malfoy wanted to know.

"Etamin," she told him honestly, unsure why she was sharing any of this with him but supposing that it would be nice if they could grow to be friends.

"You said you're worried you'll love any other kids less because they won't be as good as Etmain," Malfoy nodded slowly.

"I'm not saying I wouldn't be capable of loving more children," Hermione shrugged, "Or even that having each of them be individual and different would somehow strain my ability to care for them. It's more like…. With Etamin, I got perfect. Anyone who knows me at all knows that I strive for perfection. And I'm not saying other kids wouldn't be perfect in their own way… More that Etamin is perfect in his way. He's alarmingly clever, handsome, funny. And other children have that potential to be that too… but what if they're not as smart? What if they're pig-headed brats?"

"Didn't you just lecture me about how kids are their own people?" he reminded her.

"I did, and that's exactly why I'm afraid to have more. They will be their own people. And that means they won't be Etamin. I'm sure I could and would still love them unequivocally. But I'm terrified I'd compare them to Etamin, even subconsciously.""

"Not to mention that they'd be Weasley's instead of mine, and therefore inferior," Malfoy smirked and her and Hermione narrowed her eyes at him.

"Yes well, there's also the fact that I've only recently returned to work after being on maternity to raise Etamin. I don't know, I think eventually I'd like more children, but not now. Not yet. Maybe not at all," Hermione bit her lip looking away from him.

"Have you told Weasley all of this?" Malfoy asked her curiously, "Have you explained those things to him? If you've been fighting with him about it, wouldn't it make sense to make him understand everything you just told me?"

"Of course I haven't told him," Hermione sighed, "He has a chip on his shoulder, as you've mentioned. If I were to confess to being fearful of not loving his sons as much as I love Etamin, he'd be hurt and think it was to do with them being biologically his. And he would resent Etamin all the more. I've tried explaining the idea of wanting to wait, but he rarely listens. He's growing restless with the rest of his siblings all breeding and he wants his own sons or daughters to be close in age with their cousins. And I don't blame him for that, I'm simply not ready but I can't tell him that without everything blowing up into a row and without hurting him."

"Yet you have no problem telling me," he said quietly, "I'm the bloke you barely know and shagged one time years ago and you can tell me your dark secrets, yet you can't tell your husband and best friend? That should tell you something, Granger."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him.

"Are you trying to encourage me to divorce my husband?" she demanded.

"I am, actually," he admitted and Hermione choked on her tea again at his honesty.

"WHY?" she snarled, coughing the tea from her lungs.

"Because I don't want him raising my son and I don't fancy the idea of my son having half-siblings with Weasley genetics," he admitted, "I'm also trying to be helpful and mentally prepare you for the blow up Weasley will have when you tell him that I'm Etamin's biological father and that I want to be involved in his life. Potter might've gotten by our rivalry, but Weasley hasn't. He'll always hate me – all the more for the idea of me shagging you and knocking you up when you won't let him do the same."

"You're a manipulative prick, you know that?" Hermione accused.

"Yes, I'm aware," he smirked, "It's part of my charm. I'm sure you'll get used to it over the rest of our lives."

"I don't want to get used to it," Hermione protested.

"But you will," he informed her, "We'll be co-raising our son, Granger. You'll spend more time with me than you will with Weasley – especially after you divorce him."

"Who says I'm divorcing him?" Hermione demanded.

"I do," he shrugged. "You will. You won't have a choice. All the reasons I've been mentioning you should divorce him are true. Not to mention that he'll never forgive you for shagging me. My offer stands, by the way. You and Etamin can move into the Manor when you've divorced Weasley. I'll even let the two of you have your own wing so you won't have to constantly deal with me."

"Why would you think I would want to go back to Malfoy Manor? Ever?" Hermione demanded, "The last time I was there was one of the worst days of my life."

"Where else are you going to go?" Malfoy shrugged, "More to the point, you were the one saying that Etamin needed a stable home environment. It simply makes sense. The Manor is enormous so you wouldn't have to put up with me all the time, and the tot wouldn't be floating between homes."

"And so you're willing to live with me?" Hermione asked doubtfully.

"I'll do anything for my son, Granger," he told her in a calm and completely serious voice, his eyes steady, his expression open and honest as he said that, "I might've had a warped childhood thanks to my families teachings and affiliations, but I can assure you that I know how to be a good father. Mine was one of the best."

"How can you say that?" Hermione wanted to know. "Lucius was a Death Eater and a vile, cruel bastard to everyone he considered less than himself."

"Not to me," Malfoy argued and Hermione noticed idly that he made no move to defend his father from her accusations, "In the end his misguidance from his own father landed us in hot water, but he was nonetheless a good father to me. He doted on me, taught me, kept me informed, played with me when I was young. I know you'll find it hard to believe, but behind the snobbish and pompous façade he was a loving father. I idolised that man. I still do, if I'm being honest. He's nothing like he was in my youth, but he did everything he could to make me happy."

"And you're not interested in teaching my child about blood prejudice?" Hermione asked.

"That would be detrimental, given that you're muggleborn," he informed her, "And I've done away with all that. As has my mother. Father is still a bit prejudice but for the most part we've all learned our lesson. Besides, what use is there in preaching to my son that witches like his mother are somehow inferior when you'd be right there proving those allegations wrong. As you have done since I first met you."

Hermione was shocked by his honesty and by the way he seemed to be complimenting her. She stared at him across the desk, sipping her tea thoughtfully. She didn't at all relish the mess to come and she didn't fancy having Malfoy be her partner in crime but it seemed there was nothing for it.

"Tell me what you think we should tell the press," Hermione said finally, holding his gaze, "As you've stated it's unlikely that anyone will believe that we went the route of anonymity and didn't know all this time that we shared a child."

"No, the truth won't do," Malfoy said thoughtfully, "They'll accuse one of us – most likely me – of having somehow known and taken advantage of you. Similarly they are unlikely to believe that neither of us would have made any effort to discover each other's identity. Especially given the clues."

"Clues?" Hermione asked, her brow wrinkling.

Malfoy gave her an almost pitying glance before he rolled up his left sleeves, revealing the faded pink scar where he'd been branded with the Dark Mark during the war.

"I don't know how you didn't notice it that night, to be honest. I didn't conceal it," he told her, "I'd have thought it would give away my identity. After all, I'd told you I was a graduating student and I was the only one in our year to be branded a Death Eater. You knew I'd returned to complete my Seventh year. You had to sit with me and work with me in some of our classes."

"I was too inebriated," Hermione admitted, blushing, "I'd had rather a lot of whiskey by the time you arrived, attempting to drown my sorrows, and I honestly didn't care who you were. I didn't want to know who I was shagging. I think even if I had noticed, I'd have ignored it and blocked it all out in favour of getting my revenge on Ron."

"The basis of such a healthy relationship," Malfoy snorted, rolling his eyes, "Perhaps it would be best to tell them we were simply drunk and the moment got the better of us."

"But I was dating Ron at the time," Hermione pointed out, "And it was public knowledge."

"Indeed," he agreed, "But there had been a few stories and rumours getting around that Weasley was sleeping around on you. I remember reading them. Skeeter was publishing them. Something about first hand confessions from two of his conquests bragging about shagging a war hero. Work with that. It's the truth that you did it to get back at Weasley anyway. Simply lie about the reason and the timing a little."

"The press reported on Harry and Ron being there that night for the ball, and on Ron being my date," Hermione nodded slowly, "I suppose I could simply say I'd caught him in the act – it's the truth after all – and that I got drunk and cheated in retaliation. But that won't explain how I've been lying about Ron being Etamin's father instead of you."

"I think in this instance it might be best to work on the assumptions Weasley will draw anyway," Malfoy suggested seriously, "He's going to believe that you viciously and vindictively chose to shag someone you knew he loathed. You could even claim that you believed Weasley was the tot's father until I confronted you about it. It's the truth, after all. Pretend you simply had no idea that the kid wasn't Ron's until I ran into you the other day."

"Only Ron will contradict that," Hermione pointed out, "He's known from the beginning that Etamin wasn't his child."

"Then lie and tell them you'd told him it was a possibility that he might not be the father. After all, you were shagging him too, so it's believable. And no one is going to doubt I shagged you because I've built a reputation for shagging everyone these days. They're going to call you just another one of my conquests," he warned her.

"No, it will be much worse than that," Hermione informed him grimly, "I've seen plenty of the stories about you and how some witches have even admitted to wanting to get pregnant – seducing you as a means to trap you into marrying them so they can get their claws on your fortune. I'll be accused of being some gold-digging whore – the only witch to have successfully outsmarted you enough to get pregnant with your child. Actually I anticipate rather a lot of hate-mail over it."

"You didn't actually know it was me, right?" he confirmed, looking at her oddly.

"Did my reaction indicate I'd known?" Hermione asked, offended, "I can assure you, Malfoy that no matter how it will be portrayed by the press, I'm one of the very few witches interested in landing you as a husband or getting my hands on your gold I have more than enough of my own gold and I've already got a husband."

"A philandering one," he pointed out nastily, "But I believe you didn't plan this. Though you probably are the only one smart enough to manage it. I don't know how I forgot contraceptive charms… and why weren't you on the Potion anyway?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at him.

"I was away at Hogwarts and Ron was working for the Ministry. There was little point messing with my hormonal balance when my boyfriend wasn't around to be shagging. I stopped taking it when I returned to school and had only taken the first dose again graduation night. It's not effective straight away and I was too inebriated and too angry to recall the need for the charms."

"I'm bloody lucky I haven't landed in this mess more than once," he muttered to himself then.

"Are you sure you haven't?" Hermione asked him, "I'd hate to be surprised with random siblings of Etamin's cropping up all over the place."

"None that I'm aware of. Not that it means much since I wasn't aware of Etamin until three days ago. But I've had to deal with the accusation a few times in the past. They were always proved to be false," Malfoy shrugged.

"How fortunate for you that the one time the mistake was actually true, it was with a witch who'd rather pitch herself from the Astronomy Tower at Hogwarts than marry you," Hermione sneered just bit.

"It was rather fortunate actually," he agreed, clearly not taking any offence, "Imagine if I'd impregnated someone daft like Parkinson. I'd hate to have a docile troll for a son."

"I can assure you that Etamin is anything but," Hermione smiled.

"What are you going to tell Weasley?" Malfoy asked her a little while later after they'd sat eyeing each other. Hermione could still hardly believe or rationalise to herself that she'd shagged Draco sodding Malfoy. More to the point, she didn't at all like to contemplate that she'd recalled the night she shagged him very fondly. She'd fantasised about shagging him again.

"The truth," Hermione sighed, "He's going to flip, but I'll have to tell him. Especially since you have no intention of going away."

"Maybe you should tell him somewhere that there are witnesses," Malfoy frowned at her a little. "Just in case."

"Is this you showing concern for my well-being, Draco Malfoy?" Hermione asked, smirking at him.

"Well… If it were me, if I found out my wife had shagged my nemesis and let him knock her up whilst refusing to let me do so, I'd be furious. Mad enough to kill, probably. As much as you and I don't care for one another, I'd hate to inflict his mother's murder upon our son," Malfoy hedged, clearly uncomfortable seeming like he cared.

"I'm not about to invite you along for the ride then," Hermione told him. "Otherwise Etamin might end up an orphan."

"Maybe you should draft a living will, bequeathing custody of Etamin to me - as his rightful father - in the event of your death," he suggested and Hermione suspected he was deadly serious, "At least until you're divorced and you can amend his birth records to indicate that I'm the boy's father."

"Actually we can amend it now," Hermione suggested. "I never put Ron down as being his father on his birth records."

"Just like that?" Malfoy asked, raising his eyebrows. "What happened to you not trusting me and wanting me to go away?"

Hermione sighed, getting to her feet even as she pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. She sensed and migraine coming on.

"Honestly Malfoy?" she asked. "As much as I'm not thrilled that you are Etamin's biological father, the evidence is irrefutable. The two of you are identical. Not to mention, as we've unfortunately had to discuss, Ron is aware Etamin is not his son and is also pulling away from him emotionally. In such an event as my untimely death I would prefer to have you raise Etamin."

He gaped at her in complete shock for several minutes,

"You realise you just said you trust me with your son more than your trust your husband?" he asked her carefully.

"Yes, I'm aware of what I said. And while I would trust Ron to raise him if he were never to learn that you are Etamin's father, I do not at all trust him not to be a vicious, vindictive and spiteful arse to my son when he knows Etamin's yours," Hermione admitted, feeling ashamed of her own husband.

"Even though you think I'm a pureblood elitist and a complete wanker?" Malfoy challenged.

"You are both of those things – or were, as the case may be. The point is that you realised Etamin was your son and you still owned up. You marched into my office and your claimed him when you could've simply pretended not to know the truth. That tells me you're serious about this. Which suggests that – wanker or not – you would raise Etamin properly and he would never want for anything," Hermione told him seriously. "So right now I need you to make up your mind. It is unlikely that Ron will try to murder me, though he will be furious. I'd like to have you listed on Etamin's birth certificate now that we know you're his father. And as much as I hate to admit it, it's far wiser to have that particular hurdle taken care of before I tell Ron."

"You think Weasley would dispute the claim? Try to keep the kid? You think he'll fight you for custody?" Malfoy asked, his expression pinching at the very idea.

"I think that my husband can be spiteful and vicious when he'd in a foul mood," Hermione replied. "He would fight for custody to save face with his family and to spite me and, more importantly, you. If you're listed on the paperwork as being his father prior to the blow up, it will keep us away from some hurdles later."

Hermione picked up her purse and strode towards the door, her heels clicking on the office floor.

"Are you coming?" she asked him. "You'll need to sign the forms to amend the information."

"Oh," he said, following her towards the door.

Hermione removed the wards and left the office with him in tow.

"Boss? Is everything alright?"

"Listen, Becky, if Ginny comes by with Etamin, could you either ask them both to wait until I get back or could you watch Etamin. I won't be long and should be back before four, but if I'm not, can you mind him?" Hermione asked her assistant.

"I'd love to watch him, Hermione," Becky smiled delightedly. "I adore that boy."

Hermione smiled at her assistant. Becky had only been working for Hermione for one year – since Hermione had returned to work – but she was possibly one of the best things to happen to Hermione. The girl was young – fresh out of Hogwarts last year – but she was eager to please and she truly did adore Etamin. Her Hufflepuff nature also meant she was a very loyal assistant. Hermione had no fear that the girl would be caught shagging Ron or something equally terrible.

"Thanks Becky, I'll be back shortly," Hermione smiled tightly before stalking away through the Ministry towards the records office. Malfoy fell into step beside her and Hermione glanced at him out the corner of her eye only to find him watching her.

"Do you know what you're doing?" he asked seriously.

Hermione nodded sharply. She knew. She knew she was effectively undermining her own husband without even talking to him about this. She knew that in a way, she was choosing Draco Malfoy over Ron Weasley. She was trusting this man she hadn't seen in five years over the man she'd been married to and friends with for twelve years.

"Promise me you won't make me regret this," Hermione said quietly as she strode through the long, deserted corridor towards the registry office. "Promise me that I'm not going to end up in a custody battle with you for our son. Promise me you're not just doing this for some sly reason – like that you need an heir to inherit more property or money or something. Just… promise me you actually want to be Etamin's father and to love him and treat him right."

Malfoy stopped in the hall, catching her elbow carefully and pulling her to a stop beside him before manoeuvring her around so she could look directly into his stormy-grey eyes. Hermione blinked when he gripped her forearms lightly and stared at her seriously.

"I swear it, Hermione," he told her sincerely, shocking her with his use of her given name. "I just want what is best for our son. I don't want to take him from you. I don't want to use him for my own ends. I just want to be a part of his life and have him know I'm his father."

He held her gaze steadily and Hermione knew he meant it. She didn't doubt him. Biting her lip, Hermione nodded her head and he released her again, allowing her to continue on down the corridor.

"Can I help you?" a bored sounding wizard asked when they reached the office.

"Yes, I need someone to officiate some amendments to my son's records," Hermione told her, handing over her identification pass.

"Mrs Granger-Weasley?" he asked, blinking and Hermione eyed the man. It was clear from the way his eyes widened and he leapt to his feet that he was shock.

"Mr Malfoy?" he asked, equally as shocked and looking mildly alarmed by the sight of Malfoy standing beside her. When Hermione glanced at him she noticed that he had a tendency to loom as he stared down his aristocratic nose at the small wizard.

"Right this way," he said nervously. "Just in here. Please have a seat while I fetch your records."

"We'll both be needing to amend our personal records as well," Malfoy told him in a cold voice. "Bring those as well as Etamin's."

"Of course, sir," the wizards nodded, looking alarmed now before he scurried out of the room to fetch the records.

"Do you loom over people like that on purpose?" Hermione wanted to know when she'd taken a seat, noticing the way Malfoy had begun to pace the length of the room.

"I do," he admitted, slanting a smirk in her direction. "I've found people are less likely to argue or object with what I want if I loom over them menacingly. My reputation from the war is also rather well know, so many people like that little drone tend to fear me enough to give me what I want without botching it."

"You better not treat Etamin like that," Hermione warned him. "If you intimidate or belittle him I'll castrate you. Are we clear on that? If you ever hurt my son I swear to Merlin that I will destroy you and the Aurors will never find your remains. Got it?"

"And you grouse at me for threatening people," he clucked his tongue disapprovingly. "Well… at least our son will be able to stand up for himself."

Hermione rolled her eyes, knowing he'd taken her threat to heart without needing him to voice it. She could tell because he sneered at her. She recalled from the final year she'd spent at Hogwarts that he did that. Never conceded a point outright but instead deflected the question by sneering about something else instead – but only when he agreed with what was being said.

"Alright then," the little wizard came bundling back into the room. "What was it that you needed me to amend on the files?"

"I need to add the paternal information on Etamin's birth certificate," Hermione told him seriously.

"And we both need amendments made to our records stating that I'm Etamin's father," Draco put in, sounding more menacing than ever. The registry wizards gaped at them open mouthed in complete shock.


	6. Earned It

Draco stared at the wizard menacingly as the man gaped between the pair of them sitting in at the desk.

"Is this… true?" he asked, clearly shocked.

"Yes, it is true," Granger said firmly, reaching for the files, "We will be requiring that these records be formally amended. Do you have the required paperwork so that I can input Mr Malfoy's information on Etamin's birth records?"

"You… you're… he's…." the man looked like me might faint.

"Pull it together, you blithering idiot. We need forms to amend his birth certificate and I need to input on my records that I have a son," Draco snarled at him, snatching Etamin's records from Granger while the official startled and then jumped to fetch them the required forms.

"This will need to be changed too," he snapped at Granger, "I won't have my son carrying Weasley's name a minute longer. It will be amended to Etamin Antares Malfoy while we're here."

"Excuse me?" Granger hissed, snatching the record right back out of his hands and glaring at him.

"Listen, witch," Draco narrowed his eyes on the mother of his child in annoyance, "That kid is mine and he will not be forced to carry Weasley's name. Especially not with you divorcing the tosspot."

"Then I will amend it to Etamin Antares Granger," she sniffed.

"Granger," Draco warned, not at all liking her expression.

"Don't you take that tone with me, Malfoy," she hissed, "I'm not about to change his name to yours."

"He's my son!" Draco protested, "And if he's to be my bloody heir, he needs to carry the Malfoy name. And don't you even think about hyphenating my name with yours like you did Weasley's."

"I'm not depriving him of my surname when he's carried it all his life," she argued, "If you must have your name in there, then it bloody well will be hyphenated or you can forget it!"

Draco growled at her in annoyance.

"Do you pay so little attention when I speak?" Draco demanded, "Or do you simply mean to deny the tot the right to the Malfoy fortune? He has to bear my name to inherit. Not your name or some hyphenated monstrosity. My name. We're already pushing the boundaries through the fact that you and I had him out of wedlock. Don't make it any more complicated otherwise the Malfoy fortune will be passed right over him and on to some distant cousin of mine."

She bristled visibly.

"Don't glare at me, Granger, I didn't make the bloody laws. That's just the way of things in the wizarding world. Now if you insist on him also carrying your name then tack it on as a second middle name, just lose the hyphen and stick it in a different box," Draco told her, glaring at her and trying to intimidate her into cooperating.

"And then what's to stop you from trying to take him from me? I'm not stupid, Malfoy, I know how these things work. You and I being unwed means that if he carries your name, you have more right to him than I do."

"Oh for the love of Merlin," Draco snarled, leaning towards her as the official came back in, lugging several forms and looking nervous, "What do you need me to bloody do to convince you I'm not going to steal him from you?"

"Sign away your custody rights excepting in the instance of my death or imprisonment," she answered honestly.

"Are you joking?" Draco blinked at her, confused.

"No, I'm not joking. If you want him to carry the Malfoy name then you have to sign custody over to me. Otherwise it will be hyphenated," she replied evenly.

"You're a real piece of work, witch," Draco accused her, narrowing his eyes on the frizzy little swot. She clearly knew all the ins and outs of wizarding la on custody, rights and inheritance. And she was right. By law if Etamin carried the Malfoy name even though he'd been born out of wedlock, he would be legally a Malfoy and therefore under Draco's custody.

"Take it or leave it Malfoy," she retorted, "I don't much care about the idea of your family fortune not being passed down to my son. I have more than enough to leave him as it is."

"You?" Draco scoffed, eyeing her.

"This might surprise you Malfoy, but in the muggle world I come from old money too. A lot of it. My parents work only because they want to, not because they need to. As do I. I can assure you that with or without you, my son will never want for anything," she sniffed with all the air of a pampered heiress and suddenly Draco found himself eyeing her very differently.

He'd always simply believed that muggles were dirty and poor. She certainly didn't dress or act like she was from old money. She acted like she worked so hard because she had to earn her way in life. The idea that she was independently wealthy stumped him.

"Get that bloody form too, would you?" Draco asked the official in annoyance, it mattered more to him to have Etamin carry his name than official custody papers did. He had no intention of challenging Granger for custody of the boy. She'd raised him for the first five years and no matter what the law was, Draco knew that if there was one witch he could never usurp power from, it was Granger.

"Which form?" the official asked, clearly flustered.

"Forms to change the boy's name and forms to have me sign custody of him to Granger," Draco informed the little man in annoyance. He didn't at all like the fellow. He had piggy little eyes that seemed to water and he was rather squirrelly.

"You're not going to challenge me for custody?" Granger asked, surprised as the chap bustled off for more forms.

"I told you, woman, I have no intention of stealing him away from you. However in order for him to be properly classified as my heir, he must bear the Malfoy name. Custody won't matter when the two of you are living in the Manor with me anyway, because I won't have to fight with you about visitation rights if he's right down the hall," Draco shrugged.

"If you don't care about custody why are you so determined to make him your legitimate heir?" Granger asked, clearly confused and suspicious.

"Because I'm a spiteful bastard and entirely selfish and would rather have my fortune go to my son than some money-grubbing third cousin from some distant branch of the Malfoy line," Draco shrugged, "And because making it official that he is my heir will get my mother off my back about marriage and baby-making."

"I highly doubt that," Granger informed him, "She might let you alone about needing to further the Malfoy bloodline, but she's not going to let up in a need to see you wedded and settled with some lovely witch. And she probably wants more than one grandchild."

"Well, when she finds out about this I expect she'll set about ensuring you are that lovely witch, so be on you guard," Draco warned her mildly, rather enjoying her expression of horror, "Now hush those protests and warnings I can already see you formulating and let me read. I want to make sure all of this is in proper order. I won't have my fortune going to anyone but my son and I won't have Weasley trying to steal the tot away."

She bit her tongue on her retorts and looked at her watch, clearly fretting about the time and wanting to get back in order to meet her son. Draco didn't blame her. She fell silent as she read and filled in the forms that named him as Etamin's biological and legal father.

"This says that Potter is Etamin's godfather?" Draco asked, reading Etamin's file carefully.

"He is," Hermione nodded, "There's no one else I trust more than Harry and he's a fantastic father to his own boys. He's also already raising one godson. He would easily handle another."

"Even if he found out Etamin was mine?" Draco challenged,

"Yes," Granger nodded her head, "My understanding of Harry's opinion on you is that the two of you have buried the hatchet after what happened during school and the war. He'll be shocked and concerned when he finds out you're Etamin's father, but he won't be angry over it just because you're involved."

Draco nodded his head as he went about filling in the information on himself that needed to be included in Etamin's records before turning his attention to amending his own records to state he was the father of one son.

The official came back with the rest of the forms, sitting and puffing nervously as they filled in all the paperwork. Draco didn't like the clench he felt in his heart when he signed away custody rights of Etamin to Granger. She made sure to insert proper clauses that would ensure he would be legal guardian of the boy if she were to become incapacitated or if she died. Draco insisted on the one that meant that in the event of her marriage to someone else or, as the case may be, her divorce from someone else – her spouse had no legal rights to the boy's custody.

"Are you making his second middle name Granger or removing it?" Draco asked her seriously as he filled in forms.

She bit her lip for a moment, looking nervous. Draco could tell that even with the custody rights signed over to her, she didn't like the idea of the boy not carrying her name too. Not that he didn't understand.

"I… I'll take it out," she said finally, "Granger is a ridiculous middle name and he doesn't need to carry the name to still belong to me until he's of age."

"It does sound silly to have it," Draco agreed with her, secretly pleased. He had no nefarious reason for being so. He just liked the idea of his son carrying only his surname.

They went back to the rest of the forms in silence and Draco found himself sneaking glances at the witch opposite him. She looked different today than she had when he'd run into her in Diagon Alley. Much harsher. Her curly hair was dragged back into a severe bun, almost every curl accounted for. He said almost because one had escaped just behind her left ear and it amused him. The other day she'd been wearing casual robes too, but today she was entirely professional in her navy pencil shirt and fitted pink blouse. She had a white cashmere scarf wrapped around her neck too.

He suspected the difference involved the fact that she was the liaison between the Ministry and the magical beings that inhabited the world. While he didn't doubt her ability to be stern and controlled, no matter the issues that came across her desk, he did suspect it was easier to achieve what she wanted if she didn't have a cloud of frizzy brown curls surrounding her and making her look batty.

He hated himself just a bit for the fact that he thought she looked bloody good. Being a mother had clearly only helped her figure. And he recalled how nice a figure it had already been when he'd knocked her up. He would admit that he rather preferred the way she'd looked when dressed more casually the other day. She'd looked a bit tousled and it reminded him strangely of the night he'd spent with her.

Draco suspected he needed therapy when he wondered just how tousled he could make her look if given the opportunity ever again. Without the bloody mask this time. Rolling his eyes at himself, Draco wondered how it could be that he was sitting there thinking forbidden thoughts about the witch.

He'd daydreamed about the night he'd spent with her for years. Every witch he'd shagged since then, he'd compared to her. Her explanation made sense, of course. That she'd been so unrestrained because she had no idea who he was and thought she'd never see him again. At least, never see him and have them recognise one another and what they'd done. That certainly made sense to him. To some extent he'd done the same thing.

And since then every witch he chatted up was compared to the mystery girl and how wild she'd been. Draco could recall her intensity with perfect clarity despite the whiskey he'd had that night. He realised he might be in trouble when he found himself wanting to repeat the experience. She was a married woman, for Merlin's sake, and the mother of his son to boot. He ought not to be imagining such despicable things about the woman who'd birthed his son. It wasn't right.

But bloody Merlin's boots, he couldn't help himself!

How could he when he'd daydreamed about her for five bloody years? Fantasised, even. Every witch he'd bedded had barely held a candle to her and he had no idea why. It wasn't that any of them were particularly ungifted or unattractive or even unreserved with him. He couldn't rightly say what it was that had been different other than the anonymity of it all. Draco doubted he would ever experience the same thing. Not just because she was unlike to ever shag him again now that she knew it was him, but also because they would know who the other was if they ever did.

And she couldn't even be that open and unrestrained with her bloody husband and the bloke she'd known for twelve years. There was no way she'd repeat the experience and be that open with him again now. Sighing to himself, Draco finished the paperwork quickly, dragging his eyes off the witch. He wasn't attracted to her. Not really. It was just the memory of what they'd done that intrigued him.

"Right then," the official muttered, "Everything seems to be in order. When I perform the amendments this information will be finalised and recorded, is that clear? Anything falsified will be used against you in court."

"Nothing is falsified," Granger sighed, waving him on, "Just do the spell so we can be on our way. I have somewhere to be."

The wizard looked affronted but nonetheless he did the charm and the magic shifted everything into proper place.

"All taken care of," the official told them, "Will that be all today?"

Draco and Granger both nodded and Draco got to his feet. Granger thanked the chap for his time before following him out of the office. She hurried along as fast as she could in her pencil skirt, her heels clicking away on the stone floors. When she reached her office, Draco was right behind her.

"There you are Boss," Granger's assistant smiled at her, "You just missed Mrs Potter. Etamin's reading in your office."

"Mum?" Etamin's voice called out and Draco followed the witch inside, unable to keep from staring at the boy as Granger scooped him from the ground and into her arms with practiced ease.

"How are you my darling child?" she asked him, pressing a kiss to each of his cheeks while he wrapped his arms around her neck.

"I'm good. Me and Teddy flew today. James wasn't allowed yet, but Aunt Ginny said maybe next time," the boy told her matter-of-factly, looking pleased with himself.

"That's wonderful. Did you or Teddy fall and hurt yourselves?" Granger asked him, ignoring Draco for the time being. Draco didn't really mind. It was fascinating to watch her and the tot interact.

"Teddy came off twice," Etamin smirked, "He skinned his knee the second time but Aunt Ginny put some salve on it to fix it. They're only little brooms too, they don't fly more than three feet off the ground or go very fast, it's pretty difficult to fall and really hurt yourself."

"You didn't fall off did you, darling?" Grangers asked him, propping him on her hip as she spoke to him.

"Do I ever?" Etamin asked, looking smug. Draco smirked to himself pleased his boy was a decent flyer.

"Of course you don't," Granger crooned to him, "But you will one day and then all those taunts you toss at your cousins will bite you on the behind."

"I don't taunt them that much," the tot protested, "Oh, we have company."

Granger turned to him warily and Draco smirked at the pair of them.

"Hey, I remember you," Etamin said, squirming to be put down, "You're Malfoy. I met you in Diagon Alley the other day."

"That's right, kid," Draco grinned as the boy got free of his mother and came over to Draco, offering him a handshake again. Draco shook his hand smartly, grinning from ear to ear.

"What are you doing in Mum's office?" Etamin asked, "Are you a werewolf?"

"Why would you think that?" Draco asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Mum meets lots of werewolves. Vampires too, and other creatures. But werewolves are the only ones that look as human as you do all the time. Though you could be part Veela like my Aunt Fleur. You have the right coloured hair for it."

Draco was shocked by the kid's ability to rationalise his reason for questioning him.

"Draco's not a werewolf Etamin," Granger told him, "Or any other kind of magical creature. He's wizard like you."

Etamin nodded thoughtfully before he grinned, "Nifty. But then what are you doing in Mum's office?"

"I'm here to meet you again, sport," Draco told him honestly, glancing at Granger over the boy's head for a minute.

"Me?" Etamin asked, frowning, "Why?"

"Actually Etamin, I need to talk to you about something," Granger told him, beckoning him over to the desk where she'd returned to her seat. Draco watched Etamin go to her, climbing into her lap with ease, before he retook the seat in front of her desk and stare at mother and child.

"Draco wanted to see you," Granger began but Etamin was leaning forwards and picking up some of the photos of Draco still strewn across Granger's desk.

"Is this me?" he asked, looking at a picture identical to his own appearance, "I don't remember you taking this."

The boy turned it over and read the back.

"Draco Malfoy, 1985," he read aloud before looking up at Draco, "This is you. And you look just like me."

Draco was astounded at how quickly the kid could connect the dots.

"There's a reason for that Etamin," Granger told him quietly.

"You looked like me as a boy, Mr Draco Malfoy," the kids said, eyeing him strangely now, "Or should I say that I look like you as a boy, since you're older than me."

"The second one is the right sentence structure, Etamin," Granger told him while Draco looked on with wide eyes at how clever this kid really was. He didn't think it possible. He'd sort of thought Granger was exaggerating when she'd called him a genius.

"I look like you the way James looks like Uncle Harry," Etamin said quietly, putting the photo back on the desk, "And the way Freddy looks like Uncle George…. Everyone always comments on how I never look like Dad, don't they Mum?"

"They do, sweetheart," Granger told him and Draco watched her eyes fill with tears as the boy began to tremble.

"Is this why you and Dad have been fighting about giving me siblings?" Etamin asked her seriously, turning in her lap to look at him, "Why Dad has love left over for others and you don't. Is it because Dad isn't really my Dad?"

"Dad is the man who's been raising you Etamin," Granger tried to explain, "But there are different meanings for Dad. Ron is your Dad because he's been the one who tucks you into bed and gives you baths sometimes. But he didn't contribute to bringing you into the world."

"Contribute means being a part of, doesn't it?" the boy frowned, looking like he wanted a dictionary. Draco blanched a little when he pulled a small one out of the pockets of his robes.

"Yes, sweetheart, it does," Granger told him, "Do you know what conception is?"

"That word has more than one meaning," Etamin told her, "This one relates to babies, doesn't it?"

"Merlin's boots," Draco muttered, staring at the kid wide eyes as he searched out the definition of the word. The kid was a fucking genius!

"Yes Etamin. Ron had no part in creating you in order for you to be born. He's been raising you and looking after you because he's married to Mummy, but he's not your father by the definition of being the person who helped Mummy create you," Granger told the boy and Draco watched as the kid froze in his search for a word.

"Being a father means being the man who helped a Mummy make a baby?" the kid asked, looking at his mother, "Like Uncle Harry helped Aunt Ginny make James and Albus?"

"Yes, that's what being a father means."

"But Dad didn't help make me?" Etamin clarified.

"No, sweetheart, Ronald Weasley didn't help me make you.

"Like Uncle Harry didn't help make Teddy?" the tot ascertained and Draco wondered if he might have an aneurysm. The kid not only knew that Teddy wasn't Potter's even though he called him 'Dad' – according to Granger – but he could connect the dots between Teddy and himself.

"Did Mr Draco Malfoy help you make me?" Etamin asked quietly when Granger could only nod.

"Yeah, sport, I did," Draco told the kid, giving him a small smile.

"And that's why I look like you?" Etamin asked.

"That's right, Etamin. Draco is your father. You look like him because to make you we had to use half me and half Draco. Do you understand?" Granger asked him, cuddling him closer.

"Dad doesn't love me as much as you do because I'm not half him. He wants to give me siblings that will be half him and half you?" Etamin asked, "He wants that because then they would be half him. Is this why he doesn't love me?"

"Oh sweetheart, Ron does love you," Granger protested.

"But not as much as he would love a sibling who would be half him," Etamin said, his little voice growing tight, "He doesn't love me because I'm part Draco. He wants to make babies with you that will be half him instead. Is this why you won't let him? Because you don't want him trying to replace me?"

Tears were slipping down Granger's cheeks now and Draco felt a lump form in his throat when Etamin's began to sniffle, wiping the back of his hand across his eyes as though trying to hide the tears.

"Yes, darling," Granger choked out, "Ron wants kids that will be part him. It's why he wouldn't give you the moon."

"Would Mr Draco Malfoy give me the moon?" Etamin asked, his voice growing thick.

"Buddy, I'd give you the moon, the rest of the planets and the entire galaxy if you wanted them," Draco managed to get out, his throat tight and his words hoarse with the strain of the lump in his throat.

Draco didn't know if he should be relived or disappointed when the tot let out a wail and turned into Granger's chest, crying hysterically. Granger cried too and Draco had to clench his jaw to hold back the tears that prickled in his eyes to see the boy so upset.

"Please don't cry, squirt," Draco asked the kid, getting up and moving around the desk to squat by Granger's chair. He looked to her for permission before brushing his hand over Etamin's hair and down his back, trying to comfort the kid.

"How… how can…" Etmain choked turning his face to look at Draco, his forehead still resting on Granger's shoulder and his teary eyes peeking at Draco, "How can you love me that much when you only just met me? How can Daddy have known me forever and not love me that much?"

Granger's sob twisted Draco's heart as she buried her face in Etamin's hair and Draco felt a tear slip down his cheek at the kid's pained question.

"Because your half me, Etamin," Draco told him quietly, "You're half me and that means I love you more than I've ever loved anything else in the world. Just as much as your Mum loves you."

"But Daddy doesn't?" Etamin asked and Draco looked up at Granger.

"Ron's not really your Daddy, buddy. He's been helping to look after you because he's married to your Mum, but you're not part him. He loves you in his way, I'm sure… just not as much as me or your Mum," Draco tried to find the words. He wanted to tell the kid the truth but he didn't want to hurt him any further.

He also wanted to wring the life out of Ron Weasley.

"Mummy, does this mean Draco's my Daddy?" Etamin asked, still peering at him.

"Yes, Etamin, it does. Do you want to call him Daddy?" Granger asked, her voice thick with tears. Draco fished the handkerchief out of his pocket and dried Etamin's eyes and dripping nose before folding the fabric and doing the same to Granger. He didn't know which one of them was more startled when she laughed.

"But if I call Draco Daddy, what do I call Dad?" Etamin asked, frowning now. Draco froze when Etamin reached out and wrapped his little hand around Draco's thumb, squeezing it tightly.

"Well buddy, that will depend," Draco answered when Granger seemed to overwhelmed, "When Ron finds out that you're half me, he's going to be pretty cross with your Mum. They'll most likely fight about it because Ron doesn't like me, do you remember?"

Etamin nodded.

"He called you a git before," Etamin ratted Weasley out.

"He'll call me and your Mum a lot worse things than that. He doesn't know yet that you're half me and when Mummy tells him he's going to be angry," Draco explained.

"More rowing?" Etamin asked pulling back a bit to look at Granger.

She nodded at him, "I'm sorry, sweetheart. When Ron finds out there will be lots more rowing. He and Mummy might not want to spend time together anymore."

"You won't be married anymore?" Etamin asked innocently.

"Probably not, buddy. He might never want to see Mummy again," Granger told the boy and Etamin looked confused.

"But he still loves you. He just doesn't love me…"

"He does love you sweetheart – just not enough. Not enough to want to see you much when he finds out that you're half Draco," Granger told him truthfully, "Dad might not want to talk to you anymore either, Etamin. Will you be alright with that?"

"But he's my Daddy," Etamin protested softly.

"Draco's your Daddy," Granger corrected him, "Ron is your step-dad."

"Do I call him step-dad?" Etamin asked.

"I suppose," Granger said, "Or you can call Draco 'Father' and Ron 'Dad'. What would you like to call Draco? You can call him 'Father', 'Dad' or 'Daddy'."

"What do you want me to call you, Mr Draco?" Etamin asked him and Draco felt stricken. He'd always called his parents by the formal title of Mother and Father.

"I'll answer to any of those names, sport," Draco told him, "Which one would you like best?"

"Can I use all of them?" Etamin asked shyly and Draco grinned.

"Of course you can," he nodded.

"What do I call… Ron?" he asked, looking uncomfortable calling him Ron.

"Whatever you like, sweetheart. You can still call him Daddy or Dad. Or if you want to you can call him Step-Dad. Or if you're comfortable with it you can call him Ron," Granger told him quietly and Draco realised with some certainty that she knew as well as he did that Weasley wasn't going to forgive her and accept Etamin now. She was offering the kid the right to call him Ron because soon all he would be was her ex-husband.

"I'm used to calling him Dad…?" Etamin said, glancing at Draco as though he needed permission. Draco gave him a tight smile. He was thrilled by the idea of the tot calling Weasley Dad still, but he understood. The poor kid was hurt and confused and if he was used to calling the thick bastard Dad, he could for a while longer.

"But you're still my Mummy, right?" he asked suddenly jerking back to look at Hermione.

"I am," she vowed fiercely, "I'm you Mummy forever and nothing will ever change that. You're half me and you're the love of my life, Etamin."

"I love you too, Mummy," the boy murmured, nuzzling his face into her neck and cuddling her again.

Granger watched him through swollen eyes over Etamin's head and Draco could tell she was a bit put out with him over his involvement in all this and making her son cry. Draco simply held her gaze, unapologetic for being the kid's father and insisting on being called as such.

"Mummy?" Etamin asked, "If Ron's not my Daddy, why do I have Weasley in my name?"

"You don't anymore, squirt," Draco told him softly.

"Your name is Etamin Antares Malfoy now, sweetheart," Granger went on, "If Ron decides to divorce Mummy, my name will change too. It will just be Hermione Jean Granger instead of Granger-Weasley."

"Why isn't mine Granger anymore?" Etamin asked, panicking, "Granger is you name. Why isn't mine?"

"There are big people reasons for that, Etamin," Granger told the kid, "You have to carry you father's name and not mine in order to be his heir."

"What's heir?" the boy asked, reaching for his dictionary again, "I thought that was what we breathe."

"Not air, sweetheart," Granger smiled, "H-E-I-R is how it's spelled. Look it up for me."

Etamin looked it up, wiping his nose on his sleeve when it dripped a bit and making Draco cringe, offering him the handkerchief, which the boy ignored.

"A person legally entitled to the property or rank of another on that person's death," he read aloud when he found the answer, "What's that matter about my name?"

"In the wizarding world there are rules that say that in order for you to be able to have Draco's things – his money or his house and belongings – you must be his legal heir. You have to have the Malfoy name in order to inherit it. Only the Malfoy name. Because Draco and I aren't married to each other, we had to make sure you would have Draco's name to be able to have his things."

"Is he going to die?" Etamin asked, alarmed, "Please don't die Dra… Daddy. We only just met."

"I'm not dying sport," Draco told him, ruffling his blonde hair affectionately, "I won't for a long time. But when that time comes, years and years from now, you having the name Malfoy will mean that you can have all my stuff."

"Do you have nice stuff?" Etamin asked with the sweet innocence.

"Some," Draco shrugged modestly.

"Cool," the little boy smiled again. "And this means I won't have Da.. Ron's stuff?"

"That's right, sweetheart," Hermione told him.

"But what about you Mummy. If your name is Granger and mine is Malfoy, people will get confused. Shouldn't yours be Malfoy too?" Etamin asked next and Granger's eyes widened in alarm, "Mine is Etamin Anters Malfoy and yours should be Hermione Jean Malfoy. Shouldn't it?"

"No sweetheart, a lady only takes a man's name if she marries him. If I was a Malfoy I would have to be married to Draco," Granger tried to explain.

"Will you be?" Etamin wanted to know, "If he helped you make me, shouldn't you be married to him? Why are you married to Ron?"

"I won't be married to Draco, sweetheart. Only people who are in love get married and Draco and I aren't in love. I married Ron because I loved him, even after Draco helped me make you. Do you understand?"

"No," Etamin admitted, "How can you make me with Dra… Daddy, but not be in love with him?"

"You don't have to be in love to make a person, buddy," Draco stepped in when Granger went scarlet, "When two people make a person they really should be in love and they should get married before they even think about making a person. But sometimes it doesn't work out that way. Me and your Mum were a bit naughty and made you in secret. It was so secret we didn't realise we'd made your together until today."

"How did you not know if you made me?" Etamin asked and Draco panicked realising this was fasting heading for talk of the birds and the bees.

"Do you remember your nature show?" Granger stepped in, "The one where they had all the baby animals and they talked about how they were made."

"When a mummy and a daddy got all cuddly together?" Etamin asked and Draco's eyes widened. Just what had the witch been subjecting his son to?

"That's right buddy. Sometime witches and wizards like to cuddle like that, and they don't make a person. But sometimes they do make a person. When me and Draco cuddled like that we made you. But then we forgot we'd cuddled until you and me ran into Draco at Diagon Alley the other day. When we saw how much you look like Draco, we realised that together we'd made you," she said and Draco marvelled at her ability to explain sex in such basic terms without actually lying to the kid.

"Oh," Etamin said, clearly puzzling it out and Draco found himself smirking at Granger, who was still blushing crimson.

"Want to cuddle again, Granger?" he couldn't resist taunting her and she swatted at him so fast he could only flinch from the hit upside the back of his head.

"No thank you," she replied politely, though she glared at him.

"So does this mean we have to tell Da… Ron that I'm half Dra… Daddy? Is he going to get mad and start shouting again?" Etamin asked, clearly moving on from talking about sex like any oblivious five year old.

"He'll shout, darling," Granger nodded, "Do you want to go home and have something to eat? I'll tell Ron after you're asleep, alright? That way you won't have to listen to him shouting."

"I'm hungry," Etamin nodded, "But when will I see Dra.. Daddy again? He doesn't live at our house."

"No, he doesn't. Depending on how upset Ron is with Mummy, though, we might have to move out of our house," Granger told him.

"And then we'll live with Daddy?" Etamin asked and Draco smirked at the kid's enthusiasm for the idea.

"We might, sweetheart," Granger hedged, "Draco's new to being a Daddy and having to work with Mummy about it."

"Oh. I'm good at new things," Etamin bragged and Draco snorted.

"I know you are, sweetheart. Daddy might not be though," Granger smirked at him over Etamin's head.

"I'm an expert at new things, thank you very much," he replied solemnly, "We'll work everything out properly once you've told Weasley about all this… are you going to be alright telling him alone?"

Draco frowned at the witch. He didn't at all like the idea of her telling Weasley alone. Especially with the kid asleep in bed. Not that he wanted Etamin to see her and Weasley rowing, but he didn't want to have the kid foisted onto him in the event that Weasley killed her.

"If you keep this up I might start to think you care for me, Malfoy," Granger told him rising from her chair and lifting Etamin with her. Draco got to his feet as well, his legs tingling from the prolonged squatting. It was clear she planned to leave and head home to feed the tot and sort Weasley out. Draco supposed he would have to go home and inform his parents that he was in fact the proud father of a five year old son whom they would shortly meet.

"Maybe I do," Draco shrugged, "Don't want the mother of my kid in any kind of trouble."

"I'm touched by your concern," she answered sarcastically, "I'll owl you when things blow over, alright?"

Draco nodded, reaching for Etamin and taking him from her arms. She clutched him for a moment before releasing him.

"Are you really my Daddy?" Etamin asked, reaching up and pulling some of his hair before leaning in and trying to see to compare them, "Mum? Mum are they the same?"

"Identical, Etamin," Granger told him, swiping up the pictures of him as a brat and putting them in an envelope. Since he had his hands full she worked the envelope into his inside coat pocket and Draco smirked at her. He didn't taunt her about getting her hands inside his clothes again, but he felt his smirk said it all. Especially when she blushed again. She was too much fun to taunt.

At that moment the door opened and Becky the assistant popped her head in.

"Boss it's after five… if you don't need me for anything else I' going to…. OH. MY. MERLIN!" Becky suddenly exclaimed and Draco glanced over at her to see her staring at him as he held Etamin.

Her eyes were big as galleons, fixed on him and his son and Draco knew she'd just spotted their likeness.

"I… I can't believe it!" Becky said, staring gobsmacked at Draco.

"Becky," Granger began, "You've met Etamin's father, Draco Malfoy. Haven't you?"

"Father… Etamin's father…" she was muttering, "Draco Malfoy is Etamin's father…."

"Becky," Granger tried again, clearly trying to keep the girl from going tin to shock or screaming in surprise.

"I… Sorry, boss, I'm just having some trouble. I mean, I know there were some rumours about Etamin not being Ron's kid but I never imagined…. Well I thought it was just idle gossip," the girl stammered out slowly.

"Draco's my Daddy, Becky," Etamin piped up, "We have the same hair, see?"

Draco winced when the tot yanked on his fringe again to show her the similarity.

"Etamin it's not nice to pull hair," Granger reprimanded gently.

"Oh yeah…" the kid said, releasing him, "Did that hurt Daddy? I didn't mean to."

"It's alright squirt," Draco told him, "Just not so hard next time, yeah?"

Becky was clearly going into overdrive. She looked like her eyes might fall right out of the sockets they were so wide.

"Ron's known since I got pregnant that he wasn't biologically Etamin's father," Hermione told the girl honestly, "To be honest I didn't know that Draco was either, until he arrived in my office earlier."

"Ron's going to flip his lid," Becky managed finally.

"I know," Hermione agreed.

"No wonder you flipped too. Bloody hell! Are you sure you don't need me to cancel the rest of your week?" Becky asked.

"I'll owl you if I do," Granger assured her, "Malfoy, hand me back my child please."

"But we can't go yet," Etamin protested.

"I thought you were hungry and wanted to get home so we could have something to eat?" Granger asked the tot.

"I am pretty hungry," Etamin nodded.

"Well come here then, darling and I'll take you home."

"Can't we eat with Dra… Daddy?" Etamin protested.

"Not tonight sweetheart," Granger told him, "Maybe tomorrow though. I have to talk to Ron tonight."

"Oh…." Etamin pouted for a minute before Draco heard his tummy rumble.

"Go on, squirt," he told the kid, giving him a squeeze, "I can hear how hungry you are. I'll see you in no time, you watch."

"Ok," Etamin said and Draco tensed in surprise when Etamin kissed his cheek before reaching for Granger, who took him happily.

"I'll owl you both," she told them as she made for the door.

Becky nodded and Draco followed after Granger and his son, still in shock to have been given a kiss on the cheek by the lad.

"If I don't hear from you this evening, I'll assume the worst, Granger," Draco warned the witch honestly, not at all liking the idea of sending her and Etamin home to Weasley.

She simply nodded, gave them and exaggerated smile and left the office.

"Do I even want to know how you got her pregnant?" Becky asked him, looking at him sideways.

"The usual way ones knocks up a bird, Becky," Draco smirked at her.

"Well obviously, but how on Earth did you get her to shag you?" she wanted to know and Draco wondered who this nosy little witch was.

"Is that really any of your business?" he asked mildly.

"Of course it is, she's my boss and I adore that boy," Becky informed him, "And so help me if you've somehow harmed either of them or intend to harm them after worming your way into their affections, I'll personally see to it that you never produce another child or look at another witch. Is that clear?"

Draco scowled at the idea of being threatened by the witch. It was one thing to accept threats from Granger. She was a know-it-all swot that he'd put up with for years and traded plenty of insults threats and hexes with in the past. And she was the mother of his son. That gave her some leeway. Not to mention that as much as he didn't like the idea, he was rather pleased that all of the people in the world who could have mothered his child, he was rather comfortable with it being her. This fiercely loyal little assistant was another matter. Draco didn't tolerate threats well at all. Especially not from strangers.

"If you think you'd have even the slightest capability of dictating what I can and cannot do, I can assure you that you're mistaken, witch. Don't threaten me again if you know what's good for your or I'll see to it that your life becomes very unpleasant. Is that clear?" he retorted in a cold voice, losing his smirk in favour of the menacing scowl he wielded so well. Becky blanched at his threat and his fierce expression, taking a few steps back from him in fear.

She didn't say anything else, clearly fearing he might grow violent if she did and Draco eyed her nastily for another long minute, watching the way she began to squirm nervously before finally he strode away, intent on Flooing home to the Manor so he could notify his parents of the newest developments and begin preparation for having one annoying know-it-all and his genius of a son move into the Manor with him.


	7. Don't Need Your Reasons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Spousal abuse and violence, including children witnessing those things.

Hermione clutched Etamin close as she Flooed home to the house she shared with Ron. When they arrived she placed him on his feet and used a charm to remove the soot from their clothes from the journey. She was so preoccupied with ensuring that they were both clean that Hermione missed the sounds that were coming from the upstairs bedroom. She was following Etamin into the kitchen, her mind already turning to the idea of making dinner.

"Mummy, what's this?" Etamin asked suddenly and Hermione turned to him, her thoughts occupied by notions of a nutritious pasta dish. She blinked in confusion as Etamin held up something lacy in a gaudy shade of hot pink Hermione would never be caught dead in. She frowned in confusion as she realised it was a brassier

"Where did you get that Etamin?" Hermione asked, snatching the garment from him.

"It was on the stairs," her son told her innocently, "There are other clothes too."

At that moment the sound of an uttered shriek came from the upstairs bedrooms in a distinctly feminine tone that was not hers and Hermione closed her eyes in horror. Her heart began to race even as it seemed to sink into the pit of her stomach. Etamin took off running for the stairs, his little feet carrying him faster than Hermione's heeled boots could handle.

"Etamin, no, don't!" Hermione tried to shout as she raced up the stairs behind her son, trying to catch him before he could find the horror she knew must be going on within.

She could hear the sound of Ron cursing foully as Etamin dashed through the doorway with Hermione on his heels. He stomach twisted painfully and her heart shattered inside her chest as she entered the doorway and saw her husband hastily trying to hide his naked body while the little blonde whore on the bed was covering herself with a sheet.

"Dad, what are you doing?" Etamin asked, "Why are you cuddling that witch who's not Mummy?"

Ron went scarlet and Hermione's temper overtook her heartbreak.

"You're despicable, Ronald Weasley!" she snarled at her husband. Ron opened his mouth to offer excuses as Hermione noted idly that the witch on the bed was none other than Astoria Greengrass.

"Mummy, who is that lady?" Etamin asked, tugging on her hand.

"That's not a who, Etamin. That's a What. Would you like to know what kind of what she is?"

Etamin nodded.

"That's a whore, sweetheart. A nasty little whore who shags other people's husband. That's what whores do," Hermione hissed nastily.

"Oh, I know what whores are," Etamin piped up, "That word is in my dictionary. It means she cuddles people for money. Why is Daddy paying to cuddle someone when he has you?"

"Etamin..." Ron began, blushing crimson now while Astoria looked away, clearly mortified, "Hermione I..."

"Save it, Weasley," Hermione snarled, moving over to the dresser where she snatched up her camera before snapping photo evidence of the scene. "I should have known you would go back to being a philandering bastard the minute you didn't get your way. It's why I refused to have your fucking children. Etamin, go to you room and pack your things, sweetheart. We're not staying here with this filth."

Etamin did as he was told, sensing the cold fury in his mother's voice and knowing never to disagree when she was so angry.

"You bitch!" Ron shouted at her, "If you'd just give me fucking kids of my own I wouldn't have had to resort to this?"

"Oh, because I wasn't shagging you enough, is that it?" Hermione snapped, "I've been fucking you every day of our damned marriage, despite all those tarts you had years ago. Despite catching you with them. Don't you dare stand there and tell me you weren't getting laid enough. You no longer have any right to lie to me."

"What the fuck else am I meant to do Hermione?" Ron growled, "I want kids of my fucking own. I'm raising someone else's bastard with you, I bloody married you even when you let yourself get knocked up by someone else five years ago!"

"You did, and every day since then you have loved my son just a bit less," Hermione hissed, "You have treated him with contempt the more I refuse to have more children."

"When we married it was with the agreement that we'd have a big family," Ron growled in return, "And now you claim to not fucking want anymore. Afraid you won't love my kids as much as you do that little bastard!"

Hermione moved across the room so fast that Ron couldn't escape her before she slapped him with all her might, catching his with the wedding rings adorning her left hand and splitting his lip. Ron's head snapped to the side and he stumbled sideways.

"Don't you  _ever_  call my son a bastard again, Weasley or it will be the last thing you ever do!" Hermione shook with fury, sparks of magical power coursing through her curls - which were working free of her severe bun.

"It's what he is!" Ron snapped, never knowing when to quit, "You fucked some stranger and let him knock you up without even getting his name!"

Hermione smirked so cruelly then that Ron recoiled from her slowly, but not slow enough for Hermione to reach out and grip his chin painfully tight.

"Oh, but Ronald, I do know his name," she purred in her most dangerous voice, "Etamin's biological father is one of your favourite people in the world."

"Who?" Ron demanded, his face turning puce.

Hermione leaned in closer to him, her brown eyes boring into his blue ones until their lips were a hairsbreadth apart.

"Draco Malfoy," she purred with relish, rubbing salt in the festering wound their relationship had become.

Astoria Greengrass gasped in shock and Hermione's wand whipped up just a little too slow to keep Ron from shoving her away so forcefully that she stumbled across the room and her back collided with the dress painfully.

"YOU FUCKING SLUT!" Ron roared, his face turning purple as he began to quiver with fury, "You let that Death Eater scum lay a fucking finger on you?"

"Oh baby, I did more than that," Hermione taunted, "I let him fuck me like no one else ever has. I let him do things to me I never even told you I liked. And then I let him knock me up too."

Ron bellowed in a rage and Hermione knew that if he could find his wand - if it weren't the pocket of his trouser out in the hall where he'd shed them in a rush to have sex with a woman not his wife - he'd be duelling her fiercely. Hermione smirked cruelly, waving her wand to begin packing all her things into her trunk. All her clothes whizzed out of the cupboards, shrinking and folding themselves into her bag. Her shoes followed. All of her belongings in the house - the pictures of Etamin, her books, the knick-knacks and things she'd been given - they all came whizzing from everywhere and folded themselves into her trunk.

"HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?" Ron bellowed at her, kicking around and trying to dodge the whizzing belongings.

"You made it easy, Ronald," Hermione snapped, "You cheated on me. Repeatedly. Do you know what it was like to be away at Hogwarts and reading stories in the Prophet whispering about you shagging this witch and that witch? Do you know what it was like to have you at my Graduation Ball - not having seen you in weeks - only to discover you shagging some other slut in a corridor? Of course I fucked the likes of Malfoy. And you know what? Not only was he better in the sack than you have ever been - he was a better fucking man to me that you ever have been. Why do you think I would prefer to have the kid of an ex-Death Eater than your brats, Ronald?"

Ron roared incoherently again, clearly much too furious to see reason or form words.

"Because I knew that eventually your children would be a disappointment when compared to his. Etamin is perfect in ways your kids could only dream of being. And I knew that eventually you'd go back to shagging tarts like this one. How could you not? You're a fickle, faithless philanderer with no respect for anyone or anything but your own inflated ego," Hermione snarled at him as her things finally packed. She sent them all down to the stairs to wait by the fireplace before stalking out of the room and into Etamin's. He was crying softly over the row she and Ron were having.

"Don't cry, sweetheart," Hermione told him, "Come on, come over here while I pack your things."

Waving her wand, Hermione packed all of Etamin's clothes and toys into his trunk. His books followed, everything shrinking down nicely so it would all fit neatly.

Ron came stomping down the hall, having located some clothing - clearly abandoning his tart to fight with his wife.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" he snarled at her, blocking the doorway as she made for the door, clutching Etamin in her arms while he cried into his shoulder.

"Isn't it obvious Ronald?" she sneered, "I'm leaving you. I'm taking my son and I will be divorcing you in the morning when the Ministry opens. You and I are through. Malfoy was right. I never should have married a lying, cheating bastard like you."

"You're not fucking going anywhere!" Ron snarled at her, "How long have you known Malfoy was the kid's Dad?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business, Weasley," Hermione spat, "Now stand aside or so help me I will step over you dead body if I must."

"YOU'RE MY FUCKING WIFE!" Ron roared at her furiously.

"Not anymore, Ronald," Hermione said coldly, "You destroyed this marriage by being a cheating bastard. If you'd actually loved me, you'd never have strayed. None of this would have happened if not for the choices you made."

"Oh well isn't that a nice thing to tell you son?" Ron sneered coldly, "That if not for my behaviour he wouldn't exist?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes on him dangerously.

"Well then in that case I should thank you, Weasley. If not for what you did, I'd never have had the only person who's ever made me happy. So thank you Ron. Thank you so much for being a cheating scumbag and letting me catch you shagging some other tart that night, inadvertently driving me into Malfoy's arms and having a perfect son."

"You're not leaving me, Hermione," he warned her coldly.

"Do you want to bet?" Hermione hissed, "Let me spell it out for you, Ron. I never want to have children with you. I never want to touch you again. I never want to lay eyes on you again. You repulse me. You and your philandering ways and your self-centred behaviour. The idea of staying with you makes me want to be violently ill. I will take my son and I will leave. If I never see you again it will be too soon. I'll be filing for divorce in the morning, so I recommend you sign the papers and let us both move on with our lives Ron. Or you will regret it."

"Is that a threat?" Ron snarled, storming closer until he was breathing down Etamin's neck - literally thanks to the way Hermione was cuddling the crying boy, "You can't just walk out on me and take your son with you! He's just as much my son as yours. I helped raise him."

"You neglected him Ron," Hermione snarled, clutching Etamin tighter, "You didn't love him like you should've all because you aren't biologically his father. Even he knew the difference. He was talking about it through the week. I can tell you it didn't take him much to see that even Draco Malfoy loves him more than you do and he's only met the bloke twice."

"You've been meeting with Malfoy?" Ron demanded fire in the blue eyes she loved so much.

"I have. He came by my office to claim Etamin as soon as he realised he was the boy's father."

"I'm as much his legal guardian as you!" Ron snapped furiously, "My whole family thinks he's mine!"

"Oh Ron," Hermione sighed pityingly, "None of those things are true. You have no rights to him. Draco is listed as his legal father. And you and I have both heard the whispers of speculation that a blonde haired, grey eyed little boy couldn't possibly be yours."

I'll never forgive you if you leave me! My mother will never forgive you if you leave me and take him with you," Ron blackmailed and Hermione felt her heart twist painfully.

"What do you think she'll say when I tell her you've been cheating on me with every witch who'll spread her legs for you?" Hermione retorted, "Now move!"

Ron made to come even closer and Hermione didn't trust him not to hurt her or Etamin. Not with that dangerous glitter in his blue eyes. Turning her wand on him, Hermione stupefied him, blasting him across the room. She hurried out of Etamin's bedroom and down the stairs. She didn't bother stopping to acknowledge Astoria trying to collect her clothing, trailing Hermione's soiled bedsheets as she went.

"Did you really shag Draco?" she asked as Hermione hurried over the fireplace.

"I really did," Hermione sneered, "You're despicable, Greengrass. You knew Ron was a married man."

"Who am I to say no to a willing wizard?" she retorted.

"A dirty little slut is who you are," Hermione snapped coldly, using magic to levitate her trunk and Etamin's into her wand hand before climbing into the fireplace. Etamin clung to her neck, his arms locked around her, his ankles locked around her back, as Hermione picked up a handful of Floo powder and shouted, "Harry Potter's Kitchen!"

They whizzed away, trunks banging before landing at Harry and Ginny's. Hermione climbed out carefully.

"Hermione?" Harry asked, standing in the kitchen and cooking dinner for himself, his wife and their three boys.

"I need you to block you fireplace to Ron, Harry," Hermione warned him, "When he comes to, he's going to try and kill us."

"WHAT?" Harry yelped, hurrying over to take the trunks she was trying to lower before staring at her. He looked like he meant to help her with Etamin too but the tot wasn't going to let her go this century.

"You've been rowing again?" he asked.

"I'm divorcing him, Harry," Hermione corrected, "I just walked in on his shagging Astoria Greengrass in my bed!"

"Bloody hell, not again," Harry groaned, covering his face with his hands and Hermione felt something inside her twist painfully, "GINNY!"

"Again?" Hermione asked sharply.

"I... shoot Hermione, I'm sorry," Harry apologised, "When we were in Auror training he... well he..."

"I knew he'd cheated on me, Harry. Not that you did me any fucking favours keeping it from me and letting me believe is wasn't true," Hermione replied, "Though I never knew he'd done Greengrass more than once. She was the tart the night of the Graduation Ball?"

"You know about that?" Harry asked, looking horror-stricken now and Hermione felt sick to her stomach. He'd betrayed her as much as Ron had. Hermione had always had Harry's back, no matter what. She'd always looked out for his best interests. And instead of returning the favour he'd betrayed her and let her believe Ron was telling the truth when he denied all the allegations about sleeping around on her.

"I think the more important notion is that you do and you didn't bloody tell me!" Hermione hissed.

"What's going on?" Ginny asked, hurrying into the kitchen and looking surprised to see Hermione.

"I didn't want to upset you, Hermione," Harry told her, "Please don't be cross with me. I knew he'd made some mistakes back then but I thought he'd gotten over it when you got pregnant."

"What's happened?" Ginny demanded.

"Hermione just walked in on Ron shagging Astoria Greegrass in their bed," Harry told her.

"I'm divorcing him, Ginny," Hermione told her fiercely, "I forgave his philandering arse when we were just kids - when I got pregnant with Etamin - but never again. I won't tolerate this. Not when he's only doing it because he's pouting that I won't let him knock me up with his fucking kids."

"His kids?" Harry asked, frowning.

"Oh, come on Harry," Hermione scoffed, "I'm the brightest witch of the age! Did you really think I didn't know he'd cheated on me? I caught him at the Graduation Ball, but I didn't want to ruin the night and make a spectacle of myself. So I went to the room of requirement, got drunk and then got myself laid."

"By who?" Harry asked, "Etamin's not Ron's kid?"

"Etamin's father is Draco Malfoy," Hermione replied curtly, "Something I didn't know until today - however the proof is irrefutable. That night I had too much to drink and I was angry and wanting revenge. I didn't actually know it was Malfoy at the time - we both kept our masks on - but I shagged him. He's Etamin's father."

"Are you sure, Hermione?" Ginny asked.

"You shagged Malfoy?" Harry asked, wrinkling his nose distastefully.

"Yes, I'm sure. He ambushed me at the office this afternoon with a collection of pictures that I thought were of Etamin - only they were actually of him as a boy. They're identical," Hermione explained, "I need you to please keep Ron away from us until I can find a more permanent solution and can divorce the cheating bastard."

"You can't just ignore Ron, Hermione," Harry argued, looking nervous.

"Harry Potter, that man is cheating on me! He is also now aware that Malfoy is Etamin's father. He's beyond furious. Especially since I've already amended the paperwork with the Ministry that names Malfoy as Etamin's biological father. It was previously blank. Ron has no legal right to my son and I will not allow that vindictive arse to hurt Etamin as a way of getting back at me. If you won't close your Floo and keep him away from us I will simply go elsewhere. Somewhere he can't find us," Hermione snapped shrilly.

"Bloody hell," Harry sighed, running his hand through his messy black hair before going to the Floo and closing it against incoming visitors.

"Hermione, you can't avoid Ron forever," Ginny warned her, "You're still married to him."

"Not for long," Hermione retorted coldly.

"Are you sure you've thought this through?" her sister-in-law asked her softly, putting on a pot of tea as she spoke, "I understand that you're upset right now, you've clearly had a very bad day, but don't make any hasty decisions, Hermione."

Hermione glared at the woman across the kitchen.

"Listen Ginny, I understand that Ron is your brother and as such you have to look out for him, but he's cheating on me. For all I know he could've been for our entire marriage. I've been putting off having kids with him out of fear that he would do this to me again, not wanting the custody battle of my life over kids that are legitimately his. He wants kids and I can't bear the thought of laying eyes on him every again. I never should have married him."

"Don't say that, Hermione," Harry sighed, "You two have had your problems but…."

"I can't believe this," Hermione said, the knife twisting painfully in her heart, "What is the world coming to when the most trust-worthy person in my life is an Ex-Death Eater?"

"Hermione that's not fair" Harry snapped, his green eyes flashing at her, "Yeah, Ron fucked up. Bad. And if you two are no longer able to reconcile your differences then divorce is obviously the answer. But don't you dare march into my kitchen and accuse me or my wife of not being there for you and of not being trust worthy."

"Oh I'm sorry Harry," Hermione bit out, magic crackling in her rapidly frizzing hair, "What was I meant to think? Three people whom I love have been lying to me and keeping things from me. How foolish of me to question their trust!"

"As if you didn't lie to us?" Harry hissed right back at her, "You lied to all of us. I believed that Etamin was Ron's son. That he must favour your side of the family and your genetics. You lied to us about that. Don't you throw accusations at me or Ginny just because you're mad at Ron!"

Hermione growled in her throat, furious with him.

"Harry, maybe you should sit down," Ginny suggested, "In fact, why don't we all sit down. Let's have a nice cup of tea and stop jumping down each other's throats. Shall we?"

"You knew, Harry," Hermione accused, tears prickling in her eyes now as the horror of the situation began to settle upon her, "You knew Ron had cheated on me. You knew and you didn't tell me. When I asked you if the rumours were true, you lied to me."

Tears slipped down her cheeks then, leaking from her eyes.

"You lied. You told me Ron would never betray me or hurt me like that," Hermione insisted and she watched the way pain flashed across Harry's face at her hoarse, choked words.

"You never believed me," Harry argued with her, "You just admitted you'd known all along. Why did you marry him if you knew?"

"Because I loved him," Hermione whispered brokenly. Etamin clung to her even more tightly as Hermione's knees buckled and almost gave out. Ginny caught her from behind, steering her by the hips onto one of the kitchen chairs.

"Etamin?" Ginny asked, smoothing over the boy's blonde hair carefully, "Why don't you go and find Teddy and James, sweetheart?"

Etamin shook his head vehemently, clinging to Hermione even tighter.

"I'm sure they'll be pleased to you see you Etamin," Ginny tried to coax him but the little boy simply clung to his mother even tighter. Hermione wondered if he thought that somehow being separated from her now would somehow break them all apart. He'd already had his whole world uprooted to learn Ron wasn't his father and Draco was. He'd also walked in on his step-father with another woman, and been subjected to the terrible row Hermione and Ron had fought. Coming to Harry and Ginny's – where he'd always felt safe – and having them both fight with his mother as well must be upsetting for him. Hermione cried harder at the thought.

"Come on, buddy," Harry tried next, moving over to squat in front of Hermione, trying to peel Etamin off her. Etamin screamed and clutched her even closer, causing Harry to recoil in horror, "Bloody hell, what did Ron do to him?"

Hermione cried harder, clutching her child even closer.

The sound of the back door being thrown open made them all jump.

"I knew I'd fucking find you here!" Ron snarled, stalking into the house. Etamin screamed again, clinging even tighter to Hermione.

"Ron, you need to leave," Ginny told her brother firmly, "You can't be here right now."

"Don't you try and keep me from my wife and kid, Ginny," Ron said, shoving his sister aside as he stalked closer, rage glittering in his eyes.

"OI!" Harry shouted, getting up to intercept him when Ginny was slammed into the kitchen bench, sending pots and pans sprawling and causing her to cry out in pain, "DON'T YOU DARE SHOVE MY WIFE LIKE THAT!"

Harry punched Ron square on the jaw, knocking the red-head back. More blood than was already flowing from Ron's split lip sprayed as the hit landed.

"Move, Harry," Ron growled, "She fucking lied to me. She shagged Malfoy and had that Death Eater's spawn and she never fucking told me! She made a fool out of me! Raising Draco fucking Malfoy's kid! The fucking gall!"

"Get out of my house!" Harry snarled at his friend, "You do not talk to your wife and child like that and you sure as bloody hell don't lay a hand on my wife. Not ever and especially not in my bloody house."

He shoved Ron hard in the chest and Hermione gasped through her tears when Ron levelled his best friend a glare before swinging back, decking Harry one and nearly sending the messy-haired man sprawling. Ginny began to screech, unleashing her fury on Ron with a nasty Bat-Bogey Hex – which he mostly ignored – while Harry and Ron began an all-out brawl.

Hermione's self-preservation instincts took over as she spotted Ginny having to dash away and intercept her kids before they could end up in the crossfire. Hermione stopped thinking rationally then. All she knew was that Ron was out of control and that if he got past Harry, he was going to hurt her. Her and Etamin. Anywhere else that she might go – the Burrow, Shell Cottage or even her Mum's – he would follow and the last thing Hermione wanted was any more of Ron's temper and their drama following them to other places.

She felt bad enough for inflicting this upon Harry and Ginny.

"Move Harry, or I swear to fucking Merlin I'll hex you!" Ron shouted, trying to throw the other man out of his way.

Hermione shot to her feet, her mind working furiously before landing wildly on the one place Ron Weasley wouldn't dare follow her. Throwing out her hand, she non-verbally summoned both her trunk and Etamin's into her hand.

"Hold onto me as tight as you can, darling," Hermione whispered to Etamin as she crossed the kitchen at a run, trunks banging at her side. Etamin did as he was told, already clinging impossibly tight to her chest. Snatching up a handful of Floo powder, Hermione leapt into the flames.

"Hermione, No!" Ron and Harry both shouted at her, both of them turning to her and moving towards her.

Hermione's tear filled eyes, wide and terrified, closed as she shouted, "Malfoy Manor!"


	8. When I Look At You

Draco Malfoy drew his wand, as did his Mother and Father, all three of them rising from their seats in the dining room at the sound of the Floo roaring to life. Unexpected visitors weren't welcome. Especially not at a time like this.

He'd just been in the middle of a discussion with them about Etamin, Granger and the fact that he was a father with a five year old son none of them had known about. Or, more precisely, he'd been arguing with his father over the fact that Granger was a mudblood and watching his mother fight tears over the idea of having a five year old grandson she'd never met.

Hurrying into the entrance hall outside where all non-specified Floo calls and entrance was directed unless one used express words for a particular part of the Manor, Draco was expecting the worst.

"Who the devil could that be?" Lucius was hissing to his wife and Draco ignored him. He raced into the room, ready to hex whoever it might be, but stopped dead at the sight before him.

Granger was standing there, dropping a pair of trunks and clutching Etamin to her chest. She was openly weeping and her eyes were wide and terrified even as she spun back to the fire, waving the wand he hadn't noticed her clutching to cease the connection of the fireplace to the Floo network to prevent anyone following her. Draco frowned in concern, pocketing his wand immediately as she turned back to the three shocked Malfoys.

"Granger?" Draco asked, but she was too busy trying to pry Etamin from her chest – something the lad didn't seem keen on. Hurrying forwards, Draco realised from the way she way shaking and sobbing that she was close to collapse. He didn't want to do it with Etamin in her arms.

Snagging the boy from his mother he heard her whispering, "Go to Draco, Etamin. Let go of Mummy. Go to Daddy, sweetheart."

Draco took him quickly, noticing the death grip the lad immediately held him in, one arm looping tight around Draco's neck and his legs freeing Granger's chest. Etmain's other arm stayed looped around Granger, dragging her closer to Draco as Draco propped the kid on his hip.

"Granger? What happened?" Draco asked, listening to the sound of her wand clattering to the floor. Her knees gave out beneath her and all he managed to do was loop his free arm around her waist, dragging her to him too before she could pull them all to the floor because Etamin refused to let her go completely.

"Bloody hell," he hissed, snagging the petite little witch to his chest and feeling her grip a fistful of his robes near his right hip, the other fisting Etamin's shirt. Both of them were still dressed in the clothes he'd seen them in earlier even though he'd left them two hours ago.

"Draco?" his mother asked carefully and Granger sobbed harder. Draco didn't have any idea what to do to suddenly find his arms full of sobbing witch and hysterical tot.

"Mother," he replied, turning the three of them carefully, letting Etamin cry into his neck while Granger sobbed into his chest. It was clear something had gone terrible wrong.

"Perhaps some tea and a Calming Draught?" Narcissa asked, snapping her fingers and having elves arrive with the things she'd suggested, "Lucius, be a dear and help them into the sitting room, would you? Draco, can you make it that far?"

"I don't know," Draco admitted before sighing. He would have to. His father was only going to be able to shove him and Granger's entire weight was being held entirely by Draco. Etamin wasn't going to release her either.

Muttering weightlessness charms, Draco scooped Granger harder against himself, sliding her up his chest enough that he could walk into the sitting room. Lucius awkwardly tried to reach for Etamin, who squealed and clutched both of his parent's tighter, and then Granger, who flinched violently as well. Draco shuffled the three of them into the room while his mother poured some tea, spiking it with the calming draught.

He lowered Granger back to her feet, noting idly that she was still in her work clothes and those strappy heels. Etamin's hand was clinging to the back of her neck, his fingers teasing curls from the severe bun she had her hair in for work that day.

"Come on Granger, get it together," Draco told her sternly, "What happened?"

"Don't let him in," she gasped, "He'll kill us. Don't let him in."

Draco felt his blood run cold at the raw fear in her ragged voice as she forced those words out and he realised she must be talking about Weasley. Subconsciously he clutched mother and son tighter, pressing them both to him more firmly.

"Lucius dear, close every fireplace," Narcissa commanded sharply, always level-headed in a crisis, "I have an idea of who she'd talking about and if he's mad enough to kill then he may try to gain entry to the Manor."

"You mean to offer them sanctuary?" Lucius sneered and Draco speared his father with a glare so filled with fury that the man bit his tongue on the rest of his words and went the fireplace, muttering the charms that would close the Manor off from all Floo travel and seal the wards against any but those already inside.

Draco drew the witch and the child against him a little tighter when he noticed the way they both trembled violently.

"I warned you not to tell him alone," Draco couldn't keep himself from blurting out as he pressed a kiss to the top of Etamin head before dropping another to Granger's. She hiccupped into his chest and Draco got the feeling his words had startled her out of her stark terror.

"Wasn't alone," she managed to choke out, "He was shagging Greengrass in my bed!"

Draco stilled against her and caught the way his Mother and Father did as well.

"Got home and there were trollop clothes everywhere. Etamin… he found them…" Granger rasped, her voice hoarse. Her fist clenching his robes tightened for a minute as she tried to pull herself together and he felt the way she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself.

"Mother, I think we might need that tea now," Draco murmured, aware of the silken fury lacing his words. His mother looking startled by his reaction but Draco felt it simmering in his gut nonetheless. He couldn't explain it. He didn't particularly care for Hermione Granger. In all honesty he didn't know her. And yet there was something about the idea of the pain she must be suffering right in that moment – in addition to his fury about his kid walking in on that wretched scene – that made him want to commit murder.

"Etamin, you need to let go now, sweetheart," Granger told the boy when she tried to pull back from them and was unable to.

Etamin did so, only of the wrong parent, and Draco nearly dropped him when the kid lurched in his arms, throwing himself back at his mother. Granger caught him, though only just. Draco also had to use his grip on her waist to keep her from falling. She was dangerously unstable on her feet, especially in those high heeled bootie things she was wearing. They were sexy as hell – if he was honest – but they seemed highly impractical for catching and handling children whilst emotionally over-wrought.

"I meant of me, sweetheart," Granger was telling the kid though she managed a laugh at the situation, stumbling a little bit at the surprise but righting herself with a little assistance.

"NO!" Etamin shouted, clutching her tighter. Draco smirked too when the kid reached back out and took hold of his neck with the other arm again so that he could practically hang like a monkey between both parents while his mother stepped away from his father.

"Oh, Etamin," Granger sighed, shooting Draco an apologetic and puffy-eyed look.

She looked like hell. She was covered in soot from what he suspected might have been more than one Floo trip whilst clinging to a tot and trying to handle two large trunks. She had mascara tracked down her cheeks and her eyes were bloodshot from crying.

Draco realised she needed him to hold the boy up while she reached for the tea-cup his mother brought to her, which she sipped from readily. Draco kind of admired her bravery. She hadn't watched his mother prepare the tea and she hardly trusted the three of them. They were ex-Death Eaters, after all, and Draco didn't think any of them had ever done all that much to endear them to her or to earn her trust. Draco had watched his mother make the tea though, just to be sure. He also felt the way Granger took another deep breath in, this one more effective at calming her – no doubt aided by the tea.

"Etamin, darling, you need to have some tea, alright sweetheart?" she crooned to the boy then, turning slightly and lifting the cup to Etamin's mouth. The boy drank the liquid carefully, not even spilling a drop and Draco was a bit impressed. And kind of grossed out over the idea of sharing a tea cup with a toddler. She was braver than him, that was certain.

"Mummy, I'm scared," Etamin whispered to her and Draco felt his heart clench at the admission.

"I know sweetheart, but it's going to be alright, I promise. We're safe here," she told him and Draco caught the questioning glance she shot at him. He nodded, agreeing with her words. She and her kid were safe at the Manor. If Draco had anything to say about it he wasn't going to let Weasley anywhere near his son ever again.

"I'm hungry too," the kid whispered next.

"Oh damn it," Granger sighed, looking up at him, "He hasn't had dinner. We walked in on Ron and Astoria before I could make anything…"

Narcissa snapped her fingers again and an elf appeared instantly.

"Bring food for our guests, Zippy," she commanded and the elf looked in their direction, "Is there anything the boy can't eat, Granger?" his mother asked sharply.

"No," she shook her head, "He has no allergies… but if you try to feed him broccoli he'll throw it at you. Don't go to any trouble. I was just going to make macaroni and cheese…"

Etamin sniggered through his snotty nose at that statement about the green vegetable and Draco grinned.

"I hate broccoli too, squirt," Draco told him, ruffling the tot's thick blonde hair before fishing a handkerchief out of his pocket and using it to mop up the kid's tear-sodden face. Etamin looked weary and tired, his face splotchy and red from crying and he still clung to Granger like she was a life-line.

"Broccoli is yuck!" Etamin announced, making Draco laugh when he pulled a face.

"What happened, Granger?" Draco asked her, offering her the other side of the handkerchief. Of course, she had her hands full, with her child and her tea cup, so Draco resorted to what he'd done earlier, wiping her wet cheeks dry like she were as much his to care for as Etamin was.

She looked at him as though both amused and embarrassed by his actions and Draco realised his parents were staring at him like he'd lost his mind. Maybe he had. He barely knew the woman. He'd spoken to her more today than he ever had during the seven years of schooling they'd shared or the subsequent five years since then. And yet here he was drying her face like she was a child instead of a grown woman and as though she hadn't – at one time – been his schoolyard rival and his enemy on the battlefield.

"Erm…" she began, suddenly looking awkward as though she'd only just realised that she'd Flooed into the home of people who were practically strangers to her. Draco could see her mind working and it was clear she really didn't want to go blabbing all her secrets to total strangers. Worse, to people who'd once looked on while she was tortured and yet had done nothing.

"You got home and Weasley was shagging Greengrass?" he reminded her that she'd already shared that part.

"Right… yes. Well… I was in the kitchen planning dinner and Etamin came in clutching lingerie that I certainly don't own…" Granger began.

"It was a horrid shade of pink," Etamin told him seriously, still swinging from his neck like a monkey, he seemed to be trying to squirm out of the hold Granger had on his lower half so he could actually dangle between the two of them with one arm wrapped around the back of each of their necks.

"Like fuschia?" Draco asked, engaging the boy when he noticed Granger needed a moment to compose herself.

"I don't know what colour fuschia is," Etamin told him, shrugging, "But it was the type of pink that werewolf lady who comes into Mummy's work sometimes likes to wear. She wears her hair in plaits with ribbons in that same horrid shade and she has a handbag and shoes like it too. It was horrible."

"Lavender Brown?" Draco asked, glancing at Granger for confirmation, trying to think of the only woman he knew who would openly wear such a colour who was also a werewolf.

"That's who he is was talking about, but it was Astoria Greengrass in bed with my husband," Granger sighed, "I almost wish it had been Lavender. Then I could have made her life really bloody complicated. Greengrass will be much harder to strike back at inadvertently."

Draco was surprised by the very Slytherin sentiment.

"Less likely to see you fired for failing to be impartial," Lucius tossed in from where he'd joined Narcissa on the couch. Draco eyed both of his parents and found them both watching the three of them with keen interest, their sharp eyes assessing the situation very carefully. Draco could practically see the cogs turning in his mother's mind as she plotted to set him up with Granger and thus marry the mother of his heir.

"That's true. And if I bide my time long enough no one will point fingers at me when something dreadful befalls that little tart," Granger mused.

"Getting back to what you're doing sobbing in my living room?" Draco nudged the conversation back on track, alarmed slightly by her vicious musing.

"Oh… right, yes. Well, before I could even comprehend that Etmain was handing me lingerie that didn't belong to me and claiming he'd found it on the stairs we heard vocalisations from the bedroom and Etamin went racing up the stairs to find Ron and Astoria in bed together. I have photo evidence too, should he try to deny it when I use it as leverage to properly screw him over in the divorce," Granger smirked nastily and he was alarmed when Etamin mimicked the expression almost to perfection though looking much more like Draco himself than like his mother.

"As you can imagine things spun out of hand rather quickly. I accused him of being a spiteful bastard who was pouting over me denying him more children because Merlin knows I never deprived him of sex," Granger said and she seemed to be entering lecture mode of some kind the way she'd always done at Hogwarts when answering questions, going off on tangents and providing entirely too much information.

"Should we be discussing this in front of the boy?" Narcissa intervened, looking alarmed.

"He'll just looked up the words later after hearing them bandied about so much tonight," Granger waved a dismissive hand and Draco grunted slightly when the kid suddenly released Granger's neck but looped his legs around the woman so he could fish his dictionary out of his pocket with his now freed hand. Draco caught the alarmed expression on his parent's faces. He hadn't gotten around to the bit where Etamin was a genius yet.

"Anyway, I told him he was being an arse and that this scenario was exactly why I'd been denying him kids of his own," Granger went on as though unconcerned by Etamin's actions or by Narcissa's interruption.

"I also informed him that the very reason I would be divorcing him was because I didn't want anything else to do with him. Things spiralled out of hand quickly and he accused me of being more of a slut than him for not even knowing who had fathered Etamin. As you can possibly imagine, I rubbed salt into that festering wound particularly viciously. If I were you, I'd avoid Ron Weasley for possibly the rest of time. He lost it after that. He called Etamin a little bastard and I slapped him. He shoved me across the room and into the dresser so I packed my things."

She paused to draw breath and Draco didn't know if it was the tea or the retelling but she seemed to be regaining complete control of herself as she went on.

"When he found pants he came after me while I was in Etamin's room packing his things into his trunk and he tried to bar us from leaving. He tried to blackmail me by threatening me with how his mother would hate me when she learned I'd lied and that Etamin was yours and not his," she nodded at Draco, "Eventually more things were said that were perhaps unwise on my part, because I had to Stupefy him to get out of there in one piece."

"He tried to attack you?" Draco demanded, "He shoved you into something and threatened Etamin."

"He didn't threaten," Granger shook her head, ever one for ensuring the facts were straight, "But he looked menacing and like he wanted to hurt us. While he was unconscious I Flooed to Harry's. But when I got there it was just more rowing. Harry mentioned knowing about Ron's affairs in the past and keeping them from me. Ginny tried to insist I was overreacting and needed not to make rash decisions – always one to defend her stupid brother even when he's wrong. Eventually I convinced Harry to close his Floo from my place so Ron wouldn't be able to get through and then we fought some more about my inability to trust any of the people in my life I'm supposed to be able to trust because they'd all betrayed me."

She stopped then to take some more sips of her tea though Draco knew she wasn't finished. He could hear Etamin looking up the definition for all the words he didn't know, muttering the meanings under his breath as he read them aloud to himself.

"I was distraught and sobbing by then, and Etamin was terrified because of all the yelling. Ron showed up and barged into the kitchen. Ginny – who had been talked around to my side somewhat by then – tried to intercept him and get him to leave. Ron threw her against the kitchen counters and sent pots and pans scattering everywhere. And naturally Harry went ballistic about Ron's treatment of Ginny. When Harry wouldn't let up or let him by so he could reach me – all the while shouting about how Etamin was a little bastard and not his son but that he might fight for him anyway even if he was Death Eater spawn – Ron punched Harry and it devolved from there. Harry punched him back and they were having a fist fight. Ginny hexed Ron but then got called away to intercept her kids before they could get in harm's way."

She took another sip of tea while Draco's blood began to boil.

"Anyway, that was around the time I panicked. I could see murder in his eyes. If he got through Harry I knew Ron would hurt me, and Etamin too probably. I ran. I just grabbed our trunks and ran to the fireplace. I knew that if I went to the Burrow or Shell cottage or even my Mum and Dad's Ron would follow us. So I came here…"

"Did you just say," Draco began, his voice low and furious, his body shaking with anger, "That that violent, Weasel bastard called my son  _Death Eater spawn_?"

Granger glanced at him, her eyes widening in concern.

"Oh… yes, I did, didn't I?" she murmured, "Well, it's what he said…. No. Don't even think about it Malfoy."

Draco glared at her hand when she reached out and gripped his forearm tightly before he could take a single step, planning to Floo to wherever the arse was and hexed him into oblivion. Draco had never been so angry. Not in all his life.

"Get your hand off me Granger," Draco hissed dangerously.

"No. You're currently holding my son. You will not think violent thoughts while you do so. I'm doing enough of that for the both of us," she snapped, indicating to Etamin, who was currently in the process of trying to find a definition for the word Death. Draco realised he was trying to find Death Eater in the dictionary and he felt a terrible twist of guilt and shame inside his gut.

Scowling at her fiercely for a moment, Draco pried Etamin the rest of the way off her, releasing his steadying hold on her to clutch the kid. He squirmed a bit before reversing the hold he'd had on them. He wrapped his little legs around Draco's waist but switched his dictionary to his other hand before slinging his arm around Granger's neck. She smiled a little at the kid, now distracted completely by his dictionary.

"Is he always that clingy?" Lucius asked in something of a sneer.

"He's been through hell this evening, Mr Malfoy," Granger retorted curtly, "He's learned today that the man he thought to be his father was not at all his father and endured the horror of his step-father turning on him and his mother, in addition to seeing two other of his role models shouting and rowing with his mother. If he's feeling a need for closeness and some stability in his life, I shall not deny him that."

Draco smirked to himself over his father's momentary expression of shock as Granger put him in his place. No one ever spoke to him like that anymore except Naricssa. Not since the war. And Narcissa was still somewhat polite and less vicious in her tone. Draco smirked. It had been too long since his father dealt with brash and rude Gryffindors apparently.

"I assume you're here to take me up on my offer about you moving in with the kid?" Draco asked her seriously over Etamin's head, noting that the kid was clinging to him tightly with his legs, his hand fidgeting with something on Granger and thus not holding on. He realised what it was when Granger's long chestnut curls suddenly tumbled free of the harsh bun she'd worn it in earlier, sending them cascading down her back and about her shoulders.

They curled wildly – her core magic and her emotional distress causing them to frizz as they used to Potions lessons.

"To be honest I didn't even think about it," Granger admitted, "I just panicked and needed to get to somewhere that I doubted Ron would follow."

"But you do need somewhere to stay now?" Draco ascertained, shifting Etamin slightly on his hip and noting the way the kid was dragging his fingers through Granger's long loose curls. It seemed to calm him and Draco found his fingers itching to do the same thing. When he'd shagged her all those years ago her hair had been straight and pinned in an elaborate style. He found himself wanting to twirl each long curl around his finger.

"Well, yes, I suppose we do," she admitted, "I mean to file for divorce in the morning just as soon as the Ministry opens."

"And I'll bet you told Weasley as much, didn't you?" Draco asked, frowning now.

"Of course I did," she answered.

"Do you actually believe I'm going to let you leave the house to go to somewhere you specifically told a violent lunatic you'd be?" he asked her seriously.

"Do you imagine I'm partial to obeying your orders?" she retorted, raising her eyebrows challengingly.

"Oh, well then by all means," Draco bit out sarcastically, "Please, do go out and meet the idiot and give him the chance to murder you. I'll be sure to start warning Etamin that he has to live without his mother, shall I?"

Etamin's head snapped up at his words.

"Mummy, you can't go," he told her, "Ron will hurt you. He wanted to hurt both of us. You said so. You can't leave me!"

Granger glared at Draco for a moment before turning her attention to her son and smiling kindly.

"Everything will be fine sweetheart, I promise."

"Mistress?" an elf suddenly interrupted from the doorway, "Dinner for your guests is served in the dining room."

Hermione looked in the direction of the elf before taking Etamin's dictionary from him and tucking it back into his pocket. She pried the boy off of Draco and Draco smirked when the kid didn't much want to let go of him either but allowed her to move him. No one spoke as Draco led the way into the dining room, his parents following after Granger as she carried Etamin.

"Zippy?" Draco asked as he waved Granger towards the table where two bowls of pasta had been laid out for her and Etamin.

The elf popped back into the room.

"Prepare the maternity suite in my wing for Miss Granger and my son, Etamin," Draco commanded the elf.

"Maternity suite?" Granger asked, her eyes widening.

Draco smirked at her reaction.

"Relax, witch, it only means the rooms that allow you a suite that will interconnect with a bedroom for Etamin," he informed her, catching the sly smirk on his mother's lips before she hid it quickly. His father, on the other hand, looked horrified by the sight of a mudblood sitting at their dining table. Draco imagined it was probably the first time in the history of the entire Manor. He stared the man down when Lucius opened his mouth as though intending to say something about that very fact.

"Right. Well... I mean, I didn't come here looking to actually accept your offer, Malfoy," she told him.

"We agreed that you didn't want Etamin having a broken home life. And that the best way to make him feel like he has a home that he belongs in is to have you both live here. It's not like you can go back to where you were living with Weasley."

"But I..." she protested weakly, seating Etamin in the chair next to hers when she finally managed to pry the tot off her. He picked up his fork in his left-hand and dug into his food, the other hand still hanging onto one of Granger's long curls. Draco marvelled at the length. It easily fell to her waist, allowing the child to hold it without yanking on it or hurting her. Etamin was twirling the curl around and around his fingers, unwinding it only to wrap it around his finger again.

He did it distractedly, as though he wasn't even that aware of doing so and Granger didn't seem to mind.

"Pardon the intrusion, Miss Granger," Narcissa interrupted and Draco glanced over at her, "But it merely makes sense for you to stay here. As you've clearly already discussed, you and Draco are both Etamin's parents and it's important he be raised by both of you. That is best achieved if you live under the same roof…. And it's not as though we haven't the room."

"Dear, I don't think…" Lucius began and Draco wasn't the only one to glare in his direction.

"I don't want to be a burden," Granger said softly, looking between the three Malfoys carefully, "And it's not as though I don't have other options. I don't know why I didn't think of it actually… Etamin and I could move to my parent's country home outside Brocklehurst. Ron's never been there… to be honest I never told him about my family's wealth."

Draco eyed her speculatively for several long minutes, not sure what to say. He didn't want her to leave. He wanted her stay. To live with him. Not so much because he was overly interested in Granger – more because he wanted to be a good father and the best way to do that was if he had access to his son at all times.

"Well, at least stay tonight," Narcissa suggested soothingly, "It's much too late to go running off anywhere again. Etamin could probably use a bath and a good sleep. Honestly, Miss Granger you look like you could benefit from those things too. You've had an emotionally trying day, it seems."

Granger nibbled her bottom lip thoughtfully before she began to nod her head slowly in agreement. Draco hid his smirk of triumph, already planning how best to convince her to stay longer than just one night.


End file.
